#supposed to be a guy but i look like this and . Idk

[artficlly]

read between the lines [one-shot]

college marvel au frat!jock!bucky x cheerleader!reader tutoring bucky barnes was already distracting enough, but leaving your diary in his room? that is a whole new problem.

Warnings: fluff, so much fluff, tutoring, first kiss, college au, vague panic from reader, idk it's just kinda fun and cute :), no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: hi this was for a request! so so cute, i wrote this so fast i didn't even think i would have it ready to post so quickly. idk anything about cheerleading or how college works in america, so forgive me. inspired by that willow song! sorry for any typos - not proof read.

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I’ve been tutoring Bucky.

Well, James, technically. But he goes by Bucky. Says it’s a childhood nickname and it just stuck, and honestly? That’s kind of adorable. Like, who clings to a nickname that hard? Even the professors call him that, which should be cringe, but somehow it’s not? It just suits him. I literally don’t think I could call him James even if I tried. ‘Bucky’ feels right. It sounds warm. Familiar. Stupidly charming.

Ugh. Anyway.

He’s in one of those frats I usually stay far away from. The kind that smells like cheap beer and Axe body spray. Always yelling, always playing music way too loud, always shirtless for no reason. I swore I’d never waste my time on a guy like that. I really thought he was gonna be a cocky, arrogant douche when I first got assigned to tutor him.

But he’s not. Like… at all?

He’s actually really nice. Like, unfairly nice. That casual kind of nice that makes you forget you’re supposed to be annoyed. He remembers stuff I say. Not the big stuff, the tiny stuff. Like how I chew my pen when I’m stressed, or how I like lemon Gatorade for cheerleading practice. And yesterday he brought me those sour gummy worms I mentioned ONE time. Just handed them over all casual like, ‘Thought you might want a little sugar after practice.’ Who does that?? Like… stop. That’s not fair.

But of course, he’s like that with everyone. That’s the worst part. He’s charming in this totally effortless way. Looks at you like you’re the most interesting person alive and then turns around and does the exact same thing to someone else. How am I supposed to know what’s real?

And GOD. He’s hot. Like, it’s actually rude. He laughs and it does something to me. Like full-on makes my brain stop working. And his ARMS?? Every time he pushes his sleeves up to his elbows I lose one year off my life. For real. It’s like he’s doing it on purpose. (I mean, he’s not, but like… what if he is???) Sometimes I forget what I’m even explaining because he’s just sitting there smiling at me with those eyes and that stupid little smirk and suddenly I’m thinking about kissing him instead of confidence intervals. It’s not okay.

He’s on the football team. Scholarship guy. Big deal. Girls are obsessed with him. I’ve literally heard people talk about him in the locker room like he’s a celebrity. And me? I’m just… I don’t know. I’m me. I cheer and I study and I try not to let my GPA fall apart and I pretend I’m not crushing on someone completely out of my league.

So no. I’m not gonna say anything.

Because maybe I did catch him looking at me the other day when I tied my hair up. Maybe he does stay a little longer when we’re done. Maybe he leans in a little closer than necessary. But maybe I’m imagining it. Maybe I want it too bad and I’m just reading into everything. I don’t want to be that girl. I don’t want to get hurt.

So I’m gonna do what I’m supposed to do. Help him pass stats. Smile when he brings me candy. Laugh at his dumb jokes. Pretend like my heart doesn’t skip a beat every time he says my name.

I’m just going to help him pass stats. That’s all this is. Right? God, I’m so dumb.

—

You were fucked. Well and truly screwed.

You couldn’t even focus during practice. Missed counts, off-beat claps, a completely botched dismount that nearly took you and the poor girl spotting you both out in one go. Natasha pulled you aside with that look—the one that said she was two seconds away from losing it—and muttered something about getting your shit together because the big game was in a week and this wasn’t the time to be spacing out.

But how were you supposed to focus? Your diary was missing.

Your actual, physical, spiral-bound diary filled with every unfiltered thought you’d been too scared to say out loud. The same one where you’d spent the last four pages gushing about Bucky freaking Barnes like some sad, delusional teenage cliché. You didn’t even want to think about what you wrote last night, something about his arms and the way he smiles and how you swore he looked at you differently when you tied your hair up. It was humiliating.

You never should’ve taken it out of your room. You knew it was a bad idea. But Yelena had been on one of her ‘I’m bored and nosy’ benders, and the last time you left anything out, she’d read your old poetry journal and quoted it back to you at breakfast. You weren’t about to risk that again. So, like a total idiot, you shoved your diary in your bag before heading to class, thinking you’d keep it safe with you.

The entire day had been chaos. You barely managed to scarf down lunch between lectures, and by the time your 3 p.m. class let out, you were already sprinting across campus to make it to Bucky’s place for tutoring. Not that you actually got much tutoring done. You never did, not when he looked at you with that stupid, easy grin, or leaned back in his chair like he owned the air around him. One second you were going over statistical formulas, and the next you were talking about childhood pets and favourite movies, laughing like you hadn’t just been drowning in assignments ten minutes earlier. Time always slipped away around him. You ended up bolting to cheer practice.

It wasn’t until hours later, back in your dorm with your bag dumped upside down on the floor, that you realised your diary was missing. Your diary. 

You’d spent a solid hour panicking, then a full thirty minutes rummaging through the lost and found at the campus security office, practically elbow-deep in a box of mismatched gloves and cracked phone cases. The guy behind the desk eventually looked up from his screen, where he was rather obviously playing solitaire, and told you with the energy of someone who very much did not care that maybe it hadn’t been handed in.

You wanted to scream.

Now your most personal, most mortifying thoughts were just out there. Floating around. God only knew where or with who. And sure, maybe whoever found it wouldn’t read it. Maybe they’d be a decent human being and just turn it in without flipping through. But let’s be honest, if you found a diary with someone’s deepest secrets in it, you’d probably peek too.

You were going to be sick. Actually sick. And not because Natasha had you running suicides again like she was training you for the NFL, but because your life might genuinely be over. Because if he found it? What if you left it in his room? What if Bucky read even one word of what you wrote?

You didn’t even want to finish that thought.

No, you literally couldn’t even finish that thought because, as Natasha finally called for the end of the session and the team began their warm-down stretches, swapping tired smiles and gulping down water, you saw him.

Bucky.

Standing at the edge of the field in that stupid grey hoodie, sleeves pushed up, all smug and handsome like he hadn’t just shown up to ruin your entire existence. He had that lazy, charming smile on his face, the one that made people trust him too fast, the one that made you trust him too fast, and in his hand?

Glittery blue cover. Spiral binding. Your diary.

You were going to throw up. No, genuinely, you could feel your stomach lurch. This was it. This was how you died. Not in a blaze of glory or during a botched basket toss, but here, sweaty, humiliated, and on the verge of a nervous breakdown in the middle of the goddamn football field.

You didn’t even think. You just stormed over before anyone else could notice, grabbing his arm and dragging him behind the bleachers like it was a crime scene. Which it kind of was. A crime against your dignity.

Bucky didn’t protest. He followed easily, letting you pull him along like it was some sort of game. Of course he did. And of course, he was smiling the whole time, like you hadn’t just gone into cardiac arrest ten feet away.

Your heart was pounding so hard you could barely speak. It rattled in your chest like a warning, like it knew this moment was about to go down in your personal hall of shame.

“Where…how…why do you have that?” you hissed, snatching at the diary, but he held it just out of reach, still annoyingly calm.

He raised a brow, like you’d just asked him what two plus two was. “You left it at my place. After tutoring. You were in a rush, remember?”

No. No, no, no, no, no. Of course, it had been his place. Of course.

“I—I didn’t mean to, I wasn’t thinking, I just—” You were spiralling, words tumbling out too fast, too breathless, and your fingers were twitching like you might just snatch the book and sprint across campus. “Did you…Did you read it?”

A beat. He didn’t answer right away. Just looked at you.

And then, God, he smiled. Not the cocky one, not the football-star grin. This one was softer. Slower. Dangerous.

Your stomach dropped.

“I read enough,” he said.

You froze.

Your ears rang. Your mouth went dry. Your body just stopped.

“Enough?” you echoed, voice cracking halfway through. “Enough of what? Enough to—oh my God.”

You turned away instinctively, hand over your mouth like that could somehow keep your soul from escaping your body. Because what did that mean? What was ‘enough?’ Enough to ruin your life? Enough to laugh about it with his frat brothers? Enough to tell every girl on campus that the cheerleader who couldn’t even stick a full-out had a crush on him?

You didn’t even realise you were pacing until Bucky gently caught your wrist.

“Hey. Relax,” he said, and his voice was way too steady for someone holding the social equivalent of a loaded weapon.

You yanked your arm back like his touch burned. “Relax? Bucky, that was private. It’s literally a diary! It’s not for reading, it's for… spiralling in silence!”

He tilted his head a little, watching you carefully, and if he was offended by your panic, he didn’t show it. “You left it on my bed. Open.”

You groaned and covered your face with both hands. “Please. Just kill me. Right here. Hide the body under the bleachers. I’m serious.”

Bucky chuckled—chuckled, like this was some kind of joke—and stepped closer. You could feel his presence even before you lowered your hands again. 

“Why didn’t you just say something?” he asked, quiet now. “If you felt that way.”

Your eyes snapped to his. “Because I didn’t know if it meant anything! You’re nice to everyone. You flirt like it’s a reflex. You remember everyone’s drink orders, compliment their outfits, hold doors and say all the right things. I thought I was just another person you were… nice to.”

He didn’t answer your panicked rambling right away. Just looked at you for a long moment.

“Yeah, I’m nice to people. Doesn’t mean I feel the same way I feel about you.”

Your heart dropped straight into your stomach.

“What?” you whispered, hating how small your voice sounded.

He held your gaze, completely serious now.

“Like I wanna kiss you every time you chew that damn pen cap. Like, I think about you even when I’m supposed to be studying. Like I can’t focus when you’re talking ‘cause all I do is stare at your damn lips.” He paused, and something almost like a laugh broke out of him, soft and self-conscious. “Like I’ve been trying to find a not-creepy way to tell you I like you since the second tutoring started, but you were always so focused and cool and out of my league.”

That last part made your head spin.

“Out of your league?” you repeated, eyes wide.

He smirked, stepping just a bit closer, lowering his voice. “Have you seen yourself? You’re smart, you’re so pretty it’s ridiculous, and you’ve got this whole thing where you act like you don’t know you’re the coolest girl on campus. Of course, I was nervous.”

You blinked at him. “Bucky… are you flirting with me behind the bleachers while holding my diary hostage?”

He grinned. “Maybe. Depends. Is it working?”

You tried to snatch the diary out of his hand, but he was faster, effortlessly holding it just out of reach like it weighed nothing.

“God, I hate you,” you muttered through gritted teeth, bouncing up on your toes in a desperate attempt to grab it. All it earned you was the embarrassing realisation that you were now fully pressed against his chest, warm, broad, and stupidly solid.

“You really don’t, at least not according to this—” he said, low and smug.

“Bucky!” you warned, trying to reach again, but he shifted it higher.

“Give. It. Back,” you hissed, practically climbing him at this point.

“I will,” he said, eyes flicking down to your mouth in a way that made your stomach twist and your breath catch. “But only if you let me kiss you first.”

Your brain short-circuited. Completely and entirely. The words took a second to process. His voice had dropped, softer now, more serious, like he wasn’t just messing with you anymore.

You looked up at him, heart thudding so loudly against your ribs you swore he could hear it. His eyes searched yours, and for once, he didn’t look like the effortlessly confident guy everyone knew. He looked… nervous like he was the one waiting to be rejected.

“…Fine,” you whispered, the word barely making it past your lips, but your smile gave you away. It was impossible to hide, giddy and crooked and ridiculous.

And then he kissed you.

He bent his head and closed the gap like he’d been waiting weeks for it—maybe he had. His mouth was warm and sure against yours, one arm still holding the diary hostage, the other dropping to your waist, pulling you in like he couldn’t help himself. You kissed him back without thinking, without doubting, like maybe this was the answer you’d been afraid to ask for all along.

When you finally broke apart, breathless and blinking at each other like idiots, he handed over the diary with a grin.

“Okay,” you whispered, still a little breathless. “That was… good.”

“Just good?” He smirked.

You rolled your eyes, cheeks burning. “Don’t push it.”

He laughed softly, thumb still brushing your cheek. “So… does this mean I get to keep seeing you after stats is over? Or do I have to fail on purpose to keep you around?”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“You’re right. You’d probably kill me.”

“More like definitely.”

There was a beat of silence, the kind that didn’t feel awkward. He looked at you like he already knew what you were thinking. And for once, you didn’t feel like running from it.

You were so, so screwed.

But maybe… in the best way possible.

[rosierin]

serving looks and trouble | atsumu, osamu

synopsis; (y/n) works as a barista and the twins decide to pay her a visit. cue the gossip, the questions, and atsumu being atsumu.

a/n; if this isn’t the most “y/n” scenario ever idk what is

this fic is part of the off-season quartet™ series! for more, click here :)

It started with the jingle of the café door.

Then a pause.

Then a collective gasp from behind the counter.

“Ohmygod,” one of (y/n)’s co-workers whispered, eyes almost bulging out her head. “Who are they?”

Another peeked over her shoulder, milk jug still in hand, jaw slightly slack. “Are they celebrities or something?”

The sound of milk frothing and mugs clinking didn’t stop, but it definitely slowed, as if the entire café had turned its head in unison. Even the indie pop playing overhead felt like it dipped in volume.

(Y/n) was elbow-deep in seasonal syrups and foam art when one of her co-workers eagerly tugged at her sleeve. Thing was, she didn't even bother looking up.

The shift in atmosphere was unmistakable—bolder than the espresso in the air and louder than the hiss of the steamer.

She could recognise those twin sets of footsteps anywhere. Those unhurried, confident steps paired with a presence that filled the room, the kind that stated we’re here without so much as opening their mouths.

Still, she smiled, lighting up at the sight of them as they walked through the door. “Hey, guys.”

Her greeting was met with a pair of lazy waves and even lazier smiles.

Atsumu leaned against the counter first, sunglasses pushed up into his hair, his expression as casual as it was intentional. His eyes found hers instantly—like they always did.

“Afternoon, angel.”

Right behind him, Osamu matched the pose but with a quieter presence, one hand in his jacket pocket, the other resting on the edge of the counter. His smile was crooked and warm, but no-less smug.

“How’s our favourite barista?”

(Y/n)’s co-workers—two Uni students and one high schooler doing weekend shifts—were frozen. One of them dropped a spoon with a curse. Another accidentally messed up her latte heart. The third turned away and giggled girlishly into her sleeve.

“Don’t encourage them,” (y/n) muttered, face warming as she wiped her hands on her apron. She gave the twins a weak glare as she walked over, but her voice was far from scolding. “You guys are doing too much.”

Both claimed to have no idea what she was talking about. Merely exchanging a glance before shrugging in almost perfect sync.

Freaky twin telepathy things, she supposed.

"What brings you two foxes here anyway?"

Neither twin flinched at the nickname. She found herself referring to them as such ever since she met them in high school. Cunning minds, sharp tongues and charming faces.

In fact, she was pretty sure they enjoyed the shared title, if their award-winning smiles were anything to go by.

She would've rolled her eyes, but Atsumu stepped forward and propped his chin on his hand, watching her with the kind of shameless awe that made her want to melt and throw a towel at him at the same time. “We came for a pick-me-up.”

“And maybe a pastry,” Osamu added, already eyeing the display case. “Whaddaya recommend?”

That earned a muffled squeal from one of her co-workers, who instantly perked up and bounded over to assist him—suddenly very enthusiastic about describing each of the monthly specials in great detail. Osamu listened politely, even throwing in a follow-up question or two, and offering the occasional quiet joke that made the girl giggle, cheeks flushed pink.

(Y/n) shook her head fondly, watching the scene unfold. Turning up the charm, I see. She bit back a smile, amused.

She watched them for a heartbeat longer before her gaze naturally drifted to Atsumu, already bracing herself for whatever antics he had planned.

The small sigh she let out was almost instinctual as she asked, “You. What do you want?”

Atsumu tilted his head, a slow, amused grin pulling at his mouth. “That how ya talk to all yer customers?”

(Y/n) blinked, realizing belatedly that her tone had been a little too dry and quickly plastered on a sunnier smile. “No,” she said sweetly, hoping to cover up her little slip-up. “Just the ones who flirt with staff.”

A brief flicker crossed Atsumu’s face—something entertained and boyish—before a laugh spilled out of him, as bright and easy as the sunlight pouring through the picture window.

“Hey, I barely said anythin’ yet," he held his hands up in mock surrender, the sparkle in his eye unmistakable.

“Yeah, and it’s the yet that’s worrying me," she said, grabbing a pen and paper. "Anywho..." She clicked it once and put on her best customer service voice and smile. “What can I get for ya?"

Atsumu was clearly enjoying their little roleplay, because the grin on his face didn’t waver once. If anything, the glint in his eyes only seemed to brighten, like he was waiting for something she wasn’t quite catching.

When her eyebrows quirked up in question, he merely shrugged, his voice dropping just enough to make it feel oddly intimate. "Alright, alright…" he drawled, "I’ll get whatever the pretty barista recommends."

An eyeroll was her only response to his flirting. She began jotting down his order, pretending not to flinch at the heat crawling up her neck.

You'd think she'd be used to it by now, but with her friends-slash-co-workers all hovering nearby, all trying a bit too hard not to listen in on their conversation, it was hard not to feel even the slightest bit flustered at all the compliments and smiles he was tossing her way.

“How do ya know I was talkin’ about you?”

Her hand froze mid-scribble.

"'Tsumu—Seriously?"

His attempt at innocence was appalling. Especially with how he was practically soaking up the chorus of giggles her co-workers had the audacity of sparing him.

The blush on her cheeks worsened as he chuckled along with them, the sound doing little to quell the heat blooming across her features.

“God,” she muttered, swatting at one of the girls who was already fanning herself with a receipt pad.

Atsumu just beamed, looking far too proud of himself.

“Go sit down,” she ordered, jerking her head toward the seating area where Osamu had already claimed a window seat with a perfect view of the counter. When Atsumu didn’t budge, she gave him a gentle shove on the shoulder. “Go on. Shoo.”

“Alright, alright, no need t’ push,” he chuckled, stepping back with that dopey smile of his.

(Y/n) shook her head, but a small laugh escaped before she could stop it. She watched him retreat across the café—bright with sunlight and chatter—to where Osamu was already sitting by the window, peeling the wrapper off a muffin with the look of a man who hadn't eaten in days.

Her co-workers were on her instantly.

As she turned to prep their drinks, they leaned in with laser focus, like they were dissecting a secret romance novel.

She focused on the task in front of her—anything to ignore the way they were practically vibrating behind her. Two iced lattes. One with a single pump of vanilla for Osamu—classic, smooth, no fuss. The other with two generous pumps of caramel for Atsumu—of course. She added ice, poured the shots, topped both with cold foam, then reached for the lids.

She was just about to slide them across the counter when a hand grabbed her wrist.

“Conference room,” her co-worker whispered urgently, tugging her into the back prep corner like they were about to discuss classified information.

The three of them circled her like cats cornering a mouse.

“So…” one began, eyes wide and burning with gossip. “Are you gonna tell us who they are, or what?”

(Y/n) felt the weight of the question loom over her. “...Friends?”

“Friends?” another echoed, voice rising an octave. “Plural? Girl, what did you do in a previous life to end up with two friends who look like that?”

“I—what?” (y/n) spluttered, a laugh threatening to break through. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I mean—no, I do. But it’s chill. We’ve been friends since high school, that’s all. We're pretty close but that's about it."

“Pretty close,” the highschooler probed, narrowing her eyes with a teasing smirk. “How close?”

(Y/n) groaned, but affection tugged at her lips. “Just friendship close. Seriously. They look all charming now, but they’re more of a handful than they’re letting on.”

She tilted her head, glancing toward their table. Osamu was holding his muffin just out of Atsumu’s reach, stretching his arm above his head like a protective parent while Atsumu made multiple attempts to steal it, getting kicked in the shin each time. They were already arguing—hands waving, faces animated—even though they hadn’t been in the café ten minutes.

“Not to mention noisy,” she muttered.

“Wait,” one of the girls said suddenly, eyes lighting up. “Are they… single?”

(Y/n) hesitated. “Uh… yeah. They are. But I don’t think either of them are looking for anything right now—”

A round of the most judging, disbelieving glances followed, enough to make (y/n) slightly curl in on herself.

“Whattt? How do you know that?”

“Yeah, (y/n). C’mon, don’t gatekeep.”

“I’m not!” she laughed, exasperated. “But if you’re seriously interested, why don’t you just ask them yourself? I dunno, write your number on their cup or something.”

That sent her co-workers into an absolute spiral.

They all started fussing—giggling, whispering, glancing over at the twins’ table a few too many times. The air felt warmer, buzzing with curiosity and far too many hormones.

And as if Atsumu could somehow smell the pheromones from across the café, he rose to his feet and sauntered over.

He plucked up his iced latte with a lazy grin plastered on his face. Then he took one sip and asked to nobody in particular, “What’s all the fuss about? Saw ya glancin' over a coupla time."

One co-worker opened her mouth to speak—then immediately closed it again, already red-faced and flustered.

(Y/n) took this as her cue. “Yeah, actually. The girls wanted to know if you were both single.”

A chorus of gasps echoed around the bar.

“(Y/n)!” one of them hissed, scandalized.

She just shrugged, completely unbothered, sipping her own drink with the calm of someone watching the world burn.

Atsumu jerked a thumb at his brother. “He is." He took another long sip of his drink before his eyes flicked back to (y/n), practically gleaming. “I’m not.”

She cocked an eyebrow, arms folding. “Oh, really.”

He didn’t elaborate—he didn’t need to. The implication hung in the air like steam from a fresh cappuccino. But just in case it wasn’t painfully obvious, he winked.

She hated the way her heart skipped a beat.

God’s sake.

In front of her co-workers? Seriously?

(Y/n) was about to retort something when Atsumu suddenly turned to leave, Osamu trailing after him with an amused shake of the head.

“Anyway we gotta bounce," he shot over his shoulder. Osamu lingered at the door, propping it open with his foot as he waved. (Y/n) returned the gesture, head tilting as Atsumu flashed her one last cheeky grin.

"See ya later, babe. Text us when ya come home!"

And with that, they left the store with the same swagger they had entered it with.

Finally, the café could breathe again.

The silence behind the counter, however, was nothing short of deafening.

Well. It was.

Not for long.

"'Babe?'" one of them gawked, holding her hands up like she'd just made a world-shattering discovery. "And hang on a minute—you live with them? I like how you conveniently left that detail out. God, I have so many questions—!”

And in came the flood of inevitable interrogations...

"Wait, so you are dating him, then?” another gasped, leaning dramatically over the counter.

"Be honest," the youngest chimed in, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Just blink twice if it’s complicated."

“(Y/n), I can't believe you didn't even TELL us??” the first girl cried, clutching her chest in betrayal.

"Giiiirl—" the second chastised, "you're living the dream for real."

(Y/n) buried her face in her hands.

“We’re not dating," she groaned into her palms. Then, almost completely glossing over the unexpected lore-drop, she added, "We do live together though."

A synchronized gasp.

"Since when?! You never told us that!" one of them demanded, arms thrown wide.

"Since we started Uni! Have I never told you?"

She peeked up sheepishly as the three of them shook their heads, scandalized. Whoops. She could’ve sworn she had.

"Oh— Well, you know how I live with Rin, right?"

This time, they all nodded vigorously.

The youngest, almost reverently, murmured, "Ohmygod, Rintarou Suna, how could I forget?" which earned a laugh from (y/n).

She recalled him being equally as popular among some of her co-workers in the past.

"Yes, Rin—anyway," she continued, gathering what remained of her dignity, "basically we all moved in together during our first year. And… that's it, really. I swear I told you guys."

"You didn't," one said flatly, voice comically grave. "I'd have remembered."

Another leaned her elbows on the counter, flashing her a mischievous grin. "So you're telling me you're living with not one fittie, but three? And two of them are twins?"

(Y/n) tried not to flush at the implication. She shook her head with a huff, flicking a towel at the offender.

"Girl, you must have some fuuun," the high-schooler teased, nudging her with an elbow.

"That's so gross—no chance," (y/n) retorted, shaking her head.

One of them sucked in a breath and let out an almost envious sigh. "You're better than I am..." she said dreamily.

"Pffft," (y/n) snorted, rolling her eyes.

She brushed off her friends' teasing, already expecting as much. But under the mortification, somewhere deep beneath the surface, was a smile she couldn’t quite fight off.

Because maybe Atsumu wasn’t her boyfriend.

But he really liked to act like one.

And maaaybe she didn't actually mind.

[milkmily]

Invitation [Zayne]

Zayne x non mc! reader

Sum. You and Zayne got an invitation to a wedding, but it was to attend the wedding of the people you two love, both heartbroken. (Angst(?), a bit of Sylus x reader, nothing romantic happens in this chapters yet, There is comfort in a way ig idk guys I suck at this lol enjoy)

Layla is MC (my oc) to clear things up :) Also sorry if there are typos I did re read but at times I sometimes miss some even if I do re read it lol. Also me posting this after we got a new 5 star card released!? Craazzyyy lol I am definitely getting Zayne and Caleb on everyone's soul.

Zayne is in love with Layla, his soulmate. The one who he is distant To be, the one who he loves and cherishes. She was his destiny. But when he had gotten the letter to her wedding, he was just devastated. This wasn't supposed to go like this. This was one of the universes that he'd get to change the fate of it all, to finally be with her.

And here he stands at the wedding, both Sylus and Layla dancing together slowly. She married a man named Sylus. He's heard of him from times that Layla would go to his office to spend time with him. He didn't think much of it really. He thought that they were just friends. She always meets someone new with how kind she is. But never did he think that this would happen. He was happy, well, not truly happy.

He looks down at the glass of champagne he had at his hand. He sighs and sits down, no longer standing the sight of seeing the love of his life dance with someone else. He should be happy for God's sake! If he loves her he should. But…he just simply couldn't. The soft slow music still played as there was a small crowd watching them dance. “You came here for the bride Or the groom?” He heard someone say. He turned to his right and saw you. He's seen you before. You are one of Layla's friends. He just never knew your name or talked to you. “The bride…” he said as he fixed his glasses. You hummed and sat next to him. “You don't seem to enjoy the celebration.” Was it that obvious?

“No, I am. I've been told I just look cold.” He says back to you as his eyes move to look at Layla and Sylus. Your eyes moved too to look at the two newlyweds. “I'm here for the groom.” You say. “He's my boss.” You chuckled. “Layla has told me about you. She says you're her doctor.” So she does talk about him. He looked at you and nodded. But Your eyes were still glued to the happy couple that danced. Your eyes, they showed pain and hurt, maybe even betrayal? The same exact feelings he himself feels. They also were a bit puffy, had you cried for them because you were happy for them? “You also look like you aren't enjoying the celebration.” He says. You snapped and looked at him. “It's that obvious? Jeez…” you sighed. “Not really a big fan of crowds.” He wasn't sure but it seemed like a lie to him.

“I am Zayne.” He says. You smiled at him and said your name. Ah, that's your name. It suits you.

It was 4 am when you woke up. You took a shower, got ready, made breakfast and got ready for work. You sat down on your desk and saw A small white envelope. You smiled, already knowing who it was.

You flipped it and it had his name on it. Sylus. You hummed, wondering what it might have been and opened it. You take out the letter and read it. Your eyes went wide as you saw the two names next to each other and the big words that said, You're invited to our wedding.

You see the names again and your stomach starts to hurt. Married? Sylus and Layla?

You re Read it to be right and even check the date to see if it was some stupid prank that Layla had pulled. But no, it wasn't April 1 and it definitely was real as it had below Sylus signature you knew so well.

This hurt, seeing the letter at hand. “So, will you be coming, dear?” You looked up to see Sylus leaning on the desk. You looked down at the letter. Seeing him hurt even more now. “Yes, of course. How could I miss it?” You say yet, your tone cracked a bit. you Were trying so hard to hold in your tears. You start to cough In hopes that Sylus thought you'd simply gotten a cold. “That's good to know.” He Smiled. “You don't need to worry about the dress or anything, I'll have it ready. They just need to measure you and that's all.” You looked up at him, his red eyes Looking right back at you. Of course he'd do that, he always does. And that's what you loved about him, one of the many things you loved about him.

“Okay…thank you.” You smiled. “Um, I'll be right back.” You say and excuse yourself. You go into the restroom, lock the door and sit down on the floor as you hold on to the letter. You just start to sob uncontrollably as you hold the letter and reread it every single time. It waa true. It was real. And it hurt so much.

You have loved Sylus for so long. His gestures, the way he talked, walks, the way he is is what made you fall in love. His touch is so soft that you'd Wish for more from just his single shoulder squeeze Or the hold he had on you as you two had danced together that one night having to pretend to be a couple on a mission. The night you two stared into each other's eyes, your heart beating quick and fast as he had that smile On his face that made you melt. Or the times he'd invite you out to eat dinner, showed you his vinyl collections and heard his horrible singing That made you laugh and made him chuckle. Everything of him you loved and had wished it would have been your name on the card.

The dress was beautiful, it truly was. Sylus knew what would look good on you, always. The wedding was beautiful and welcoming. Everything was beautiful. Even Layla. Her gorgeous wedding dress and the huge Smile in her face as she walked down the aisle. The tears she shed as she heard Sylus vows was even beautiful. And how Sylus looked at her with such loving eyes as she read her vows. But it hurt. You don't know how many times you had to excuse yourself just to cry alone in the bathroom.

You had just gotten done crying, walking back to the party to see the groom and bride dancing together To a slow and soft song. You watched them and just smiled at them. No matter how much you wished and vision it was you, the reality never changes and it will stay like this. You saw someone sitting alone and approached them. Might as well make new friends, no? As you got closer you noticed, this was Dr. Zayne. The Doctor that Layla talked About a lot, her childhood friend and primary doctor. You sat down next to him and ask, “You came here for the bride Or the groom?” You already knew the answer but it's the best way to start a conversation no? You saw he wasn't enjoying the celebration much but maybe that's just how he Looks? So you ask and he explains that it's just how he looks. But to you, it felt like a lie.

You looked back at the dancing married couple, but more at Sylus. His arm wrapped around her waist, exactly how he had held you that night as you two danced, his other Hand holding her hand, fingers intertwined, exactly How you gwo held hands as well and-

“You also look like you aren't enjoying the celebration.” You snapped out of your thoughts and looked at him, smiling nervously. You were caught so off guard. “It's that obvious? Jeez…” you sighed. You Just came up with some stupid excuse. “Not really a big fan of crowds.

“I am Zayne.” He says. You smiled at him and said your name back to him. Zayne nods. And You two just talk, as if the crowd was never there, as if you two were never at a wedding. As if you were never heart broken.

You two ended up talking the whole wedding party. You'd laugh at his stupid and horrible jokes because come on, they were actually funny. And he'd Laugh at your horrible jokes as well. You told him about Sylus and how he was as a boss and he told you about Layla and how it was growing up with her.

“You two are here to talk or for the celebration?” You two looked at who talked and it was Layla. She was smiling at you two and you awkwardly looked away. “Both…?” You say and she laughed. “Come on! You two have to dance or something! You two are boring.”

“Now Kitten, you already know how [Name] is, she doesn't like dancing.” He says as he had two glasses of champagne at hand. You embarrassingly looked away as he said that. Well, now Zayne knows too. “Zayne here is the same.” Layla says and now Zayne looks away as well. You two looked at each other and chuckled. Layla holds her hand out towards Zayne and he takes it. Suddenly he's pulled away and you laugh at how wide His eyes got. Suddenly a big hand is Held at front of you. “Care for a dance?” He asks and you look up at him. Your heart beats fast And place your hand on top of his.

The song was slow like last Time. Some guests were dancing as well. Sylus wrapped his arms around your waist and you placed your hands on his shoulders to keep a distance. You two slowly dance and you just stare at his chest. “You're hiding something from me.” He says. You say nothing because It's true. You're hiding so much from him right now. “You Can tell me.” He says. You close your eyes as you hold back the tears. “Look up at me.” He says and you do, you open your eyes and they slowly adjust Themselves. You saw Sylus Smiling down at you as he slowly moves along with you.

“Tell me.” He whispers. He truly does care about you.

“I can't right now.” You say. It would be horrible To confess your feelings on his wedding day. What type of person does that? “When will you?” he asks. “When it's the right Time.” You say and continue to dance with him. He brought you closer, your head in his chest now, hearing the soft heart beats and you closed your eyes. You simply let the moment happen.

Zayne looked over at you and Sylus and as Sylus Slowly turns, he saw a tear slide down your cheek as your ear was pressed against his ches. He looked away and looks down at Layla as she danced along with him.

She was gorgeous, really. She looked so beautiful with the white dress she had on, how she had her hair up in a big bun with some curls out and her bands To the side. She is So gorgeous. Is this how she Would of looked if They got married? Would she hold him exactly how she held Sylus when they danced? Kissed him the same way? This was wrong, truly wrong. But he cannot stop how he feels, he's human after all. Layla looked up at him and smiled, “You're thinking right now Zayne, what is it?”

“Nothing.” He says as he smiles softly down at her. “Hmmm, it better not be work related. At my wedding, work is not welcomed.” She said and giggled. Zayne Chuckles and shakes his head. “No, it's not work. Don't worry.” He says. “I'll try to visit you as much as I can, Dr. Zayne. And I won't miss any appointments either.” She says, reassuring him. He nods and says, “Good to hear.”

“Thank you for coming.” She says as she looks at him. “Really, it means a lot that you're here.” But if only she knew that he felt like a damn storm right now. He nodded at her and they continued to dance. That's when Sylus Tapped his shoulder and said, “I'll have to steal her from you now.” Layla let's go of Zayne and he watched her leave with Sylus so they'd dance together. That's when he saw you standing as well. You looked hurt too. The same pain as his. And right then and there, he knew you were Also in love.

He walks up To you and asks, “you really don't like to dance?” You looked at him and shrugged. “It really depends..” He held his hand out and asked, “do you want to dance?” you looked at his hand and held it. He slowly brings you closer to him and holds you. You closed your eyes as you Pressed your ear against his chest and danced with him. He looked down at you and saw you shaking. “It's okay.” He whispers. And it breaks you. You let out soft and quiet Sobs as you danced with him. He holds you a bit more tighter, reassuring you. You held on to him as you two danced and felt him let out a shaky sigh.

Well, now he knows it wasn't because you didn't like big crowds. And you now knew that it wasn't because of his expression.

You two were truly broken.

There will be a part two :)

[zephyrrr101]

Elizabeth Midford's Turmoil.

Okay, before I go on my rant, there are manga spoilers from the Arcs that are ahead of where Anime is, so you are being WARNED.

It kind of makes me sad that everyone hates Lizzy nowadays. Like idk what people expect from her. She is 14.

Freaking 14!

You know what we are doing at 14? Worrying and losing shit about our exams and not having good looks at 14.

Like, put yourself in her shoes. The girl lost not only her fiance but also two of her best friends, her uncle and aunt who would have dotted on her with how we know Vincent and Rachel were. She lost them all, and then after a month, one of her cousins came back saying he was her fiance, and this went on for three years.

I'm not saying Our Ciel is a bad guy here or anything. He had his own reasons. But think of it from Lizzy's side. This is supposed to be the boy who she sacrificed so much for. The boy for whom she exchanged beautiful heels for flats, appeared frail and girly because her supposed fiance had been scared of strong women since he was a child and she didn't want him to hate her or be scared of her, so she hid away her natural talents so he wouldn't think of her as the same way he thought of her mother. This is the girl who cried while trying to save the supposed fiance from walking corpses because she thought he'd hate her for being able to protect herself and him and not being girly.

Like has anyone thought about the fact there might have been things that Lizzy and Real Ciel might have discussed that Our Ciel wouldn't know about? Like for this instance here, from Chapter 66 when they are celebrating Easter.

This is seriously something to put into consideration that Lizzy is infact talking to him about something that she had told him before the fire at Phantomhive manor. And he doesn't knows it. And she is shocked. And she is shocked to the point that for the first time in what we have read the manga she asks that what happened to him in that ome month that changed him so much.

And then, all of sudden she is reunited with the guy who knows exactly what she and him talked about when they talking of their future. Mind you both Ciel were 10 and Lizzy was 11 at that time.

Do we even put it into thought that maybe Real Ciel might have given her a whole detailed version of what actually happened when he was killed, like how Our Ciel got the Phantomhive ring and all the gruesome details, and God knows would have told her what else?

And idk if you get it or not, but the fact that she's actually beating herself over is that she couldn't find any difference between Real Ciel and Our Ciel, which, again, if you put yourself in her shoes, will make sense that her reaction is right.

Source: Chapter 144

And even after that, her thoughts first go to how our Ciel might be mocking her or not then she tells Edward what she actually thought at the moment.

These two boys who she played with since they were kids, these two boys who were her best friends, and she couldn't find a difference between her fiance and his brother. It's not anything but traumatizing and something that anyone would feel tremendous guilt over. And even then she is feeling far more guilty over the fact that if she had known the truth, she could have ended up hating Ciel because he wasn't her fiance.

Reminds you guys of something?

Source: Chapter 11

She knows she would have turned bitter and we possibly would have seen the same reaction we did when Madam Red attempted to kill Our Ciel. Something which did happen when we saw her attacking Sebastian when he tried to retrieve her from the Sphere Music Hall. And if not that she feels guilty of playing part in what happened with Our Ciel and the Scotland Yard being set on his tail.

She feels hurt, guilty and confused all over not knowing what to do or who to side with because the guy who was okay with her being a strong woman was not her actual fiance but his younger twin.

Overall. Give the girl a break. She's 14, confused, and emotionally traumatized. Get that we love Our Ciel. I do too. But let's not get angry at a 14-year-old girl and allow her the liberty of having emotions like any real 14-year-old is allowed because let's accept it her situation ain't anything pretty.

[clearmytrack]

wahoo stexsona!! this is bones hes me but train.

bones is a ✨catenary maintenance vehicle✨ i wanted to do something similar to a repair truck because i see the repair trucks as like. medical personnel for the engines and whatnot. and i work in the medical field! so i did some lookin around and i found amtrak’s catenary maintenance vehicle and yeah.

the main part of the design is meant to look like he’s wearing scrubs (bc medical) the sleeve details are supposed to look like the vehicle’s windows, and the knee pads, belt, and elbow pads take their design from one of the references. i tried to do a belt similar to the bochum costumes (i was looking at electra specifically). the shoulder boxes are the vehicle itself and the one on the right has a pantograph, the one on the left has the lift thingy idk what it really is and i couldnt draw it well. anyway.

the makeup is meant to look like the amtrak logo since i used the amtrak vehicle as inspiration, and the eye part of the makeup is very much inspired by my one true love krupp the armaments truck.

anyway i think this guy would get along with wrench. actually i think they’d get along with most of the components (can i selfship with krupp is that allowed) and possibly electra. bc electric. he fixes the catenaries, electra and co have to be nice to him.

anyway yeah :]

[gilmorenights]

Okay so I know he's out Vat7k exclusive but he is in team radical so what are your Varian headcanons??

YAYYY VARIAN MY BELOVED

Used to love when it snowed because it meant he got to go sledding with his dad, but then he developed an intense fear/hatred of snow because of the events during queen for a day

First reaction was to not trust Nuru because of how much she reminds him of Rapunzel. Even though the two of them had mostly mended things at that point, there was still a part of him deep down that blamed Raps and expected Nuru to betray the rest of the team for her kingdom

Had to put up a sign declaring his lab an “anti-Eugene” zone due to how often Eugene just barges in without warning. When it didn’t work, Varian changed it to say “Anti-Horace” just to piss him off

Keira and Catalina were his first friends that were actually around his age

Calls Hugo “pretty boy�� as an insult (backfires cuz Hugo thinks they’re flirting)

Thrives in warm/hot weather but the moment the temperature drops, Varian refuses to go outside and wears thick clothing until it’s spring/summer again

He’s a snob about produce due to his dad being a farmer, and it’s a nightmare to go food shopping with him. What’s supposed to take an hour at most turns into an entire afternoon wasted at the market because the tomatoes are too soft or the apples aren’t the right color or the celery doesn’t snap right. Hugo, who grew up eating whatever he could get his hands on, has to physically restrain himself from strangling Varian

He had freckles everywhere

Exchanges letters with Rapunzel throughout his journey as a way of mending their relationship further (they both still feel super guilty about everything that happened and blame themselves) so no matter how far Varian travels, he’ll always have someone from home to guide him

Doodles Team Radical in the margins of his journal when he’s bored (caught himself making a very detailed sketch of Hugo’s face and was ashamed of himself for days)

Inconsistent sleep schedule due to nightmares, which often leads to him sitting outside by the campfire late at night. Because of this, he and Hugo are alone together a lot of the time because Hugo is usually the last of the team to go to bed

Insane sweet tooth, genuinely can’t get through the day without consuming something sweet

First to see Hugo with his hair down and was a flustered mess about it for hours after

Hugo was the first one he told about his past as the Alchemist

Has the Saporian emblem on his body somewhere (either tattooed or branded idk) because everyone in that group has it as a way to pledge their loyalty

Slight country accent that surfaces only when he’s really fired up (you can pry this hc from my cold dead hands cuz I think it’s so funny that he becomes a cowboy when he’s angry)

“Accidentally” leaves goo traps in the castle halls where he knows Nigel and/or Frederick will be walking

Forgets to eat all the time. People will remind him, but he’ll just wave it off and forget until someone shoves a ham sandwich in his face and threatens to reorganize his beaker drawer

Despises coffee and makes fun of Eugene for drinking an “old man” drink, but he will drink it if he’s pulling an all nighter and is desperate for something to keep him awake

Realized he was bisexual at some point during the journey. I feel like he wouldn’t care about romance after becoming royal engineer and getting over his crush on Cassandra, so it wouldn’t really occur to him that he likes both guys and girls until he’s on the road with too much time to think

Tries to emulate his dad when taking charge of the group cuz even away from home, he looks up to his dad

Wrist scars from the handcuffs during his prison era, whether they’re prominent or barely visible

Left-handed. Why? I dunno, it just makes sense to me

Hot chocolate snob. He’ll drink almost all kinds of hot chocolate, but he has a preference for the high quality stuff they keep in the castle and can tell the difference between different kinds (judges people who make it with water instead of milk)

When he’s in a particularly sour mood, he’ll shut off all the hot water in Corona just to be petty (usually does it when Frederick pisses him off)

Yong called him his brother once and he didn’t stop crying for an hour

Made fun of Hugo for not knowing how to swim until Varian has to save him from drowning in the water trial

Gets offended when people call Ruddiger fat or say he’s overweight (he’s basically a bowling ball that waddles around the castle but Varian isn’t ready for that conversation yet)

Refuses to let people take care of him when he’s sick because they “have better things to do”

Hugo is the only one he will voluntarily share a lab space with. Anyone else and he’d rather throw himself out a window

I have so much more but this is definitely long enough jansosiwbsoishwnsksoaisj I love him

Thank you for the ask <333

[kiokos]

A GIRLS NEWFOUND PROBLEMS

Sypnosis: Y/N L/N, a girl rejected by everyone due to her ‘unusual’ appearance, had met up and become friends with a boy who was obsessed with soccer when she was 13, without knowing he would be the reason that she got to meet with the 3 people who would make her life shine brighter than ever before.

Genre: slight romance, crack, strangers to 4lifers, suggestive sometimes (?)

A/N: okay guys I swear I have a reason for not being online for like. Err.. two weeks..?😭 FIRST OF ALL LAST WEEK + TODAY WE HAVE BREAK FROM SCHOOL SO AYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAY.

Anyways… SO YEAH I TRIED TO ENJOY MY TIME W MY FRIENDS AND STUFF :3!! Also I kind of added fine shyt. He’s cute and he’s so nice and JSJSJSHWHHSEBEHWBHSBEHSBWJQJWBDBSBSBSB He’s lowkey JAHSHSJAHQHWWHWHSHSJSBHSBDBDBXBXN

Anyways.

Warnings(?): kys jokes, kind of ooc karasu(?), ooc otoya(?), petnames (doll), you and karasu sit on the same bed, lowkey jealous karasu, idk what else to add lolz

Taglist: @ihe4rtme @x3nafix @sapphireillusions

(Comment to be added.)

You groaned and you finally got the last baggages into your room, with a smug karasu behind you carrying two massive ones as if it was nothing. You rolled your eyes as you saw the look on his face. Before you could say anything, he went, “yer’ overreacting. They ain’t that heavy, ya dimwit.”

And there did the flying sandal go! Straight to his face. “YOU SHOULD LEARN TO SHUT UP!” “OUCH- THAT HURT YA IDIOT!” You rolled your eyes before huffing out a, “just help me unpack, will you? Also don’t touch that bag.” “Why?” “My underwears are in them. DO NOT TOUCH.” “Sounds interestin’.” “TABITO.” “OKAY-OKAY.”

When he started helping you unpack, he noticed a particular picture you two took years ago. He gently picked it up from your bag, being extra careful not to break it before turning to you with a big grin on his face, before saying, “reminds me of the old days. Remember when ya once grabbed a boy by his ear and forced him to apologize to me?! That was frickin’ hilarious!” “THAT’S BECAUSE YOU WERE TOO MUCH OF A WUSS TO DO IT YOURSELF!” “WAS NOT!”

You rolled your eyes as you took the picture and settled it down on your desk. “Ya know, ya should probably put that in an.. errr… what’s it called again?” “Picture frame?” “Ya! That!” You let out a laugh and said, “yeah. You know what, maybe I should.” You could barely even say something else before shidou came in the room.

He was looking for karasu - and grinned when he saw you two together. “Dang, didn’t know she was taken, karasu.” “Shut up, you dimwit. We’re just friends.” “Thats what they all sayyyyy;3” “you little-!” Shidou grinned and ran out the room as karasu chased after him and you simply sighed. You were about to call karasu back to help you put something up, until otoya came into your room.

You paused when you saw him. You did as karasu asked and didn’t really speak to otoya - setting aside all the normal stuff such as ‘goodmorning’, ‘bye’, ‘hi’, things like that, but other than those moments, you barely spoke with the guy. As you were about to speak up, he went,

“Heard you calling for karasu, but he’s busy chasing down shidou right now… what did you need?” He said in such a nonchalant tone it almost pissed you off, but you simply sighed and answered his question. “Err, you see, I need to set up something and needed karasu’s help..” you admitted, to which otoya replied to with, “I can help. What is it you need to put up?” He said, tilting his head slightly.

“Ah, just something for my closet,” you said as you opened the closet doors as to show him. (not sure what to call them), you pointed at a pole(?) you’re supposed to put up (the kind in which you need to hang your clothes on). “Ah, okay, I see. Let me help.” He said, slightly hesitating to come in the room, as if asking you for permission to enter. As you nodded, he entered and started working.

—————-

“Alright, all done.” He muttered after a few minutes, turning to you. “Ah, thanks. How can I repay you?” You said as your gaze met his. “Hm, you don’t need to. ‘S what roommates do, right? Don’t worry ‘bout it.” He said before pausing, and then he went, “if you really wanna repay me, you could come with me to visit this new record shop that opened last week?” You hesitated for a little bit before choking out a, “yeah… sure.” He nodded as he left the room.

What you didn’t expect to see as he left the room, though, was a very-much-not-pleased-karasu. He scoffed as he entered the room. “Are you mad at me?” You said, turning to him. “Mad at you? ‘Fcourse not. Could never be mad at you.” He then paused before saying, “mad at otoya, tho.”

“He seems like a nice guy, tho.” You replied, turning to karasu. “Tch. Sure. Whatever floats your boat, doll.” He snarked pack. You rolled your eyes before hitting his shoulder playfully. “Ouch! What was that for, ya dimwit!?” He squeaked, rubbing his shoulder.

“For being jealousssssss~” “I’M NOT JEALOUS.” “AM!” “AM NOT!” “AMMMM!~~~~” AM NOT!!!” He rolled his eyes before muttering, “yer a dumbass. Why would I be jealous of YOU- OUCH!” He once again squeaked out as you hit his shoulder. “Why’s my shoulder the victim here!?” “Cuz you’re being rude, that’s why!” “AM NOT!” You rolled your eyes before just plopping down on your bed and sighing.

“Come sit here, tabito.” “Tabito? No tabi?” “I called you that ONCE in middle school, tabito! Get over it!” He chuckled before settling down on your bed and letting out a, “eh, I liked it. You should call me that more often, Y/N.” He smirked before looking down at you.

You scowled and grabbed a pillow, throwing it at him. “And YOU should stop wearing that god-awful hair gel!” Karasu was about to snark back before getting a notification. Looking at it, he once again sighed, standing up before saying, “gotta go. Got work to do. Can I get a goodbye hug?” “Not even in your dreams, you doofus!” You say as you stand up and hug him.

“Okay.. don’t forget to come down to the bar tomorrow night, ‘kay? Me and the rest of the guys are gonna be there, so unless you come, you’ll be alone in the house.” He reminded you as your warmth melted away as you settled back on your bed.

“That sounds delightful and peaceful.” You grinned back as he rolled his eyes before going, “right then, I’ll be off. If shidou annoys you, tell rin.” “Yeah, okay, I’ll remember that.” After that, he walked out of your room.

As he left, you stood there, pondering about what you could do. You decided to dress up and go to a library! Surely nothing would go wrong, right?

You just now realized how terribly wrong you were as you spotted a few of karasu’s teammates in the library.

[aeniiverse]

HELLO?

Synopsis — Y/N, a bubbly and optimistic new student, finds herself captivated by the enigmatic Ningning, a girl known for her aloofness and tough exterior. Initially, Ningning helps Y/N navigate the school, but what begins as a reluctant friendship soon evolves into something deeper. Despite Ningning’s attempts to maintain her distance, Y/N’s infectious warmth and constant presence begin to break down her walls, leading to subtle, soft moments of care and protection.

contains — fluff, angst, grumpy (Ningning) x sunshine (y/n), sunshine x sunshine protector in the end, bit of possessive Ning (but in a good and non-toxic way), y/n has an obsession with juice boxes, oc’s (jisung), mention of ive’s Yujin, ending is written in third person pov, avoiding and pulling away at some point, y/n is just a ray of sunshine

WORD COUNT — 14.5k

A/N — okay so was listening to a laufey song and that’s when I came up with this idea, the title is based of the song hello by clairo which in a way relates to the story esp the “are you into me? Like I’m into you part” ye idk if you get it 😝

You were not lost. You were just… directionally adventurous.

That’s what you told yourself, confidently sipping from a juice box and squinting at the crumpled school map that someone had handed you at orientation printed in grayscale, covered in tiny fonts, and currently held upside down. Which, okay, fine. You were lost. But it was the first day! You were a freshman! Lost freshmen were a natural part of the academic ecosystem!

Unfortunately, it didn’t seem like anyone around here agreed.

“Excuse me—hi? Sorry, quick question—oh. Okay.” You watched the back of someone’s head disappear down the hallway. That was the third person to speed-walk away from you like you were asking for their social security number instead of directions to the science wing.

Honestly, what was with this school? Was everyone trained to avoid eye contact like it was a full-contact sport?

You turned a corner and immediately hit a dead end. Great. Wonderful. Maybe you’d graduate here, like, in the hallway. You’d just set up camp next to the water fountain and host office hours for other lost souls.

You took a long, dramatic sip of your juice box.

Then you saw her.

Leaning against a windowsill at the end of the corridor, earbuds in, one leg bent and pressed to the glass, was a girl who looked like she belonged on the cover of a moody indie album. Dark jacket, headphones oversized enough to block out both sound and social interaction. Her expression was blank no, blank was too neutral. She looked done. With what? Life. School. Probably people like you.

Someone else might have taken that as a sign to back off.

You were not someone else.

“Hi!” you chirped, striding toward her with zero hesitation. “You look like you know stuff. Can you help me not die here?”

The reaction was instant.

Every single person in the hallway either stopped moving or pretended they weren’t definitely listening. A group of upperclassmen at the lockers froze mid-laugh. Even the guy who had been swiping through his phone paused with his thumb in the air.

Because Ningning had looked up.

She slowly tugged out one earbud. Her gaze swept over you from head to toe the juice box, the backward map, the wildly optimistic grin plastered on your face.

Then she blinked. And for a full, dragging beat, you thought she might just stand up and walk away.

But instead…

“You’re holding the map upside down.”

It wasn’t warm. It wasn’t polite. But it was a response.

You gasped like she’d handed you a Nobel Prize. “Oh my god, that makes so much sense! I thought this hallway was a portal or something.”

“…A portal.”

“To, like, another dimension. A science lab purgatory. I don’t know. I panicked.”

She stared at you.

You beamed back, unfazed.

For a second, you thought you saw something twitch at the corner of her lips. A shadow of a smile. Maybe.

“This is Building C,” she said, tugging her other earbud out. “You’re supposed to be in Building A if you’re looking for Chem.”

You gasped again. “You know where Chem is? You’re my hero.”

“I didn’t say I was taking you there.”

“You didn’t not say it, either,” you pointed out helpfully. “Which means there’s a chance.”

Another long, slow blink. This girl had perfected the art of judgmental silence.

You took another sip of your juice. “Anyway, I’m Y/N. Freshman. Chronic over-sharer. Kind of dying a little. What’s your name?”

More silence. She looked like she was debating whether to entertain this or yeet herself out the window.

“…Ningning.”

You nearly dropped your juice. “Wait the Ningning? The one who everyone says never talks to people? The one who supposedly made a senior cry last year just by looking at him?”

“That was an exaggeration.”

“Which part? That it was a senior or that you made him cry?”

Ningning didn’t answer. But her eyes flicked sideways like she was trying not to smile.

“Okay, okay, no more questions. I can feel your tolerance dropping by the second. But can I just say one last thing?”

She raised an eyebrow.

“You have really great hair. Like, intimidatingly great.”

At that, she actually laughed, quiet and quick, like it escaped before she could stop it. She looked vaguely horrified after, like the sound had betrayed her.

You blinked. “Was that… did you just—?”

“No,” she said instantly, face deadpan again.

“Liar,” you grinned.

Ningning sighed. Then grudgingly, like she was fighting every instinct in her body she pushed off the windowsill.

“I’ll walk you to Chem,” she said.

You lit up like a Christmas tree. “Really?! You’re my new favorite person.”

“I’m not doing this every day.”

“Sure, sure. You say that now. But wait till I win you over with friendship bracelets and spontaneous karaoke.”

She gave you a look. “Absolutely not.”

“Too late,” you sing-songed as you followed her down the hallway. “You smiled. You’re stuck with me now.”

And just like that, the hallway still half-frozen in collective shock watched Ningning, the untouchable, walk away with the loudest, weirdest freshman clinging to her side like she’d done it a thousand times before.

She didn’t say a word the rest of the way.

But she also didn’t put her earbuds back in.

Homeroom had never felt so dramatic.

Maybe it was because the classroom was unusually quiet, or maybe it was because everyone seemed to be watching your every move like they expected you to spontaneously combust. You weren’t sure why the simple act of sitting down next to someone had suddenly become a spectator sport. You hadn’t even done anything yet. All you’d done was walk in, check the seating chart, and make your way toward the desk at the back corner the one with the best view of the windows and the worst reputation in the entire room.

Because that was her seat.

And today, the new kid you had been assigned to sit beside her.

You heard the whispers before you even got there.

“No one talks to her.”

“She made a TA cry last semester.”

“She hasn’t had a desk partner since middle school.”

“She probably requested it that way.”

You, of course, just waved and dropped into the seat like it wasn’t allegedly cursed. Your backpack thudded onto the floor, your pencil case zipped open with way too much enthusiasm, and your juice box (yes, another one) landed on the desk with a cheery slap.

“Morning!” you beamed at Ningning, who sat perfectly still with her chin propped on one hand, eyes flicking to you like you were a particularly loud and sparkly fly.

She didn’t say anything.

“You have really pretty hair,” you tried again, unbothered by the wall of silence. “Like, scary pretty. I’d pay actual money to get those waves. Is it natural? Wait, don’t answer. That’s probably weird. Sorry, I tend to overshare. It’s a thing.”

Still nothing.

You unwrapped your pencil and kept talking anyway. “I have a cat named Waffles. He has one functioning brain cell and absolutely no survival instincts. Last week, he tried to eat a sock. A whole sock.”

A beat of silence.

Then very faint, almost invisible the corner of Ningning’s mouth twitched.

You saw it. You definitely saw it.

“I put a bowtie on him for his birthday,” you added casually, fighting a grin. “It was red. He hated it. Tried to fight it. Lost.”

Another twitch. This one lasted a little longer.

You were winning. You had no idea what the prize was, but you were absolutely winning.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught the class president whispering something to a friend, both of them wide-eyed and frozen like they were watching someone juggle flaming knives.

You turned slightly and whispered, “Are they always like this?”

Ningning finally moved. She turned just enough to glance at the rest of the class, then looked back at you and said, flatly, “They’re waiting to see if you survive first period.”

You blinked. “Huh. That’s kinda flattering. It’s like being the main character of a horror movie. Do I get theme music?”

“No,” she said.

You hummed thoughtfully. “Bummer.”

The class finally turned their attention back to the teacher when attendance started, but the atmosphere stayed tense, like everyone expected you to spontaneously burst into tears or catch fire from sitting too close to her. Ningning didn’t say anything else, but you noticed the way her pen kept tapping against her notebook in a steady rhythm. You wondered if she always did that, or if it was a new thing.

It didn’t bother you. You liked noise.

What did bother you, weirdly enough, was the way her desk looked… empty. Like it had never really been used.

There were no little stickers on the corner. No scuffs from someone resting their elbows there all year. No tiny doodles or pen scratches. Just perfect, untouched wood.

Your desk already had your initials carved into the bottom right corner. You’d done it with a mechanical pencil while zoning out.

When the teacher passed out forms, you scooted a little closer to look at Ningning’s paper, pretending you couldn’t find your own. “Oh no, am I illiterate and lost? Double threat.”

She didn’t say anything, but her hand slid your form toward you without looking.

You smiled. “You’re really nice under all that scary energy, you know?”

Ningning gave you a blank look, but her ears turned the faintest shade of pink.

You didn’t say anything about it. You just sipped your juice and started filling in your name.

The rest of homeroom passed in a weirdly calm blur. Maybe it was because the other students gave up waiting for drama, or maybe it was because Ningning didn’t actually seem as terrifying when she wasn’t ignoring you. She didn’t talk much, okay, at all but every time you said something, she listened. She didn’t zone out or roll her eyes. She just… watched. Like she was trying to figure you out.

Like she didn’t mind the noise.

The bell rang, and students started packing up. You leaned back with a stretch. “Whew. Survived homeroom. Zero fatalities. Unless you count my GPA. Which I do.”

Ningning stood up, swinging her bag over her shoulder. She didn’t look at you when she said, “You talk a lot.”

“Yup,” you agreed brightly. “But I’m fun.”

She paused. Then, so quiet you almost missed it, she muttered, “You’re not annoying.”

You stared at her. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

“It is now.”

And for a moment, just a split second, Ningning smiled. Real and small and crooked. The kind of smile that looked like it didn’t know how to exist yet.

Your chest ached a little. Just a little.

Because Ningning looked like someone who was used to silence. Like someone who’d made a home out of being alone. Like someone whose desk had been empty for a long time not just physically, but quietly, deeply empty in a way no one had noticed.

But she’d let you sit there. Let you talk. Let you stay.

So you would.

You smiled back and threw your arm around your bag. “So. What’s next? Do you have the schedule? Or are we just wandering until a teacher adopts us?”

Ningning blinked at you, then reached into her pocket and handed you a folded paper. You opened it and gasped. “You’re an organizational goddess. I should’ve known.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t take the schedule back.

You were still talking when you walked out of the classroom, voice trailing off into a story about Waffles attempting to scale your fridge for a single slice of cheese. Ningning didn’t reply, but she didn’t leave either.

And if everyone else in the hallway looked stunned to see you still alive and practically glued to her side well, that was their problem.

You were just getting started.

Ningning had helped you exactly one time.

It hadn’t even been dramatic. No life-or-death scenario, no “princess carried out of danger” moment. You’d just gotten lost, pointed your juice box at her like a compass, and asked for directions like she wasn’t the most unapproachable person in a ten-mile radius. She told you which hallway to go down. That should’ve been the end of it.

But it wasn’t. Not even close.

Because to you, that wasn’t just directions. That was a bond. That was friendship forged in the flames of social anxiety and bad map design. That was fate handing you a grumpy, scary, beautiful tour guide with the energy of a storm cloud and the aura of a final boss. And you, being exactly the kind of person who thought “boundaries” was just a suggestion, latched onto her like a barnacle made of sunshine and poor impulse control.

So now every morning, without fail, you showed up to school like you had a legally binding contract with the universe to be as loud and cheerful as possible, headed straight toward Ningning’s locker like you were on autopilot.

“Good morning!” you chirped one Thursday, popping up beside her like a caffeinated Pokémon. “I brought you a juice box! It’s apple. I wasn’t sure if you liked grape, and orange felt too acidic for a Thursday, you know?”

Ningning didn’t even look at you. She finished unlocking her locker with a slow turn of the dial and pulled her books out with precision that made it seem like she was trying very hard not to throw one at your head.

“If you don’t want it, I’ll drink both,” you added thoughtfully, holding up the boxes. “But not at the same time. That would be weird. Unless that’s like, a power move?”

Still no response.

You leaned closer. “You’re thinking about it, though. I can tell.”

One of Ningning’s friends, a tall girl with sharp eyeliner and a scarier stare paused mid-conversation to watch the two of you. She elbowed the guy next to her, who looked up and openly gawked. It was like you’d tamed a dragon with a Lunchables.

Ningning gave them a look that could wither plants. “Don’t,” she said flatly.

They both immediately turned away, but you caught the way they were grinning.

“I like your friends,” you said, not-so-quietly. “They look like they know how to hide a body. That’s so fun.”

This time, Ningning did glance at you. Brief. Disbelieving. Like she couldn’t understand how someone with no sense of fear had made it this far in life.

You smiled wider and tapped the juice box against her arm until she took it. “See? Besties.”

She blinked down at the apple juice in her hand like it personally offended her, then quietly tucked it into the front pocket of her bag.

You beamed. “Victory.”

She didn’t say anything else as the two of you started walking down the hallway together but you noticed her slowing her pace just enough so you wouldn’t have to jog to keep up.

The thing was, you weren’t stupid. People thought you were, because you talked a lot and wore bright colors and made friends with everyone in under five minutes. But you noticed things. Like how Ningning always kept one earbud out when you were around, even if the music was still playing. Or how she never outright told you to leave her alone, even though everyone insisted she didn’t tolerate clingy people. Or how her friends had stopped looking concerned and started looking amused whenever you appeared at her side.

You weren’t breaking her down. That would imply she was a wall. Ningning was more like… a fortress. Intact. Imposing. And you were just the idiot sunshine who kept knocking at the gate every day with a smile and a snack.

You didn’t mind. It was a good kind of challenge.

“You know,” you said as you reached your classroom, still walking with her even though her own class was on the other side of the building, “this is technically stalking.”

Ningning stared. “You’re admitting that?”

“Yup,” you grinned. “But like, friendly stalking. With juice. That makes it fine.”

“I’m reporting you,” she muttered.

You nodded seriously. “You want me to pose for the mugshot now, or later?”

That earned you a very quiet huff. Not quite a laugh. But not not a laugh.

You counted it as another win.

By lunchtime, you were bouncing your leg under the table and texting her even though you were two tables away.

you: i hope you drank the juice.

you: or at least looked at it fondly.

you: did you name it.

you: don’t lie. i feel like you did.

Across the cafeteria, Ningning didn’t respond. But she looked up once, met your eyes, and raised one unimpressed eyebrow.

You sent her five heart emojis and went back to your sandwich.

Her friends, once again, looked like they were watching the end of an era. One of them muttered something you couldn’t hear, and Ningning actually smacked her with a napkin.

You would’ve given anything to be closer just to hear what they were saying.

But you had time. You were in this for the long game. You didn’t mind that she didn’t talk much or that she rarely smiled. What mattered was that she let you talk. That she showed up. That when you hovered beside her desk in homeroom and offered to trade snacks, she didn’t tell you to go away.

You liked to think that meant something.

After school, you spotted her waiting by the front gate with her headphones in, bag slung over one shoulder, half in shadow like she belonged in a magazine spread.

You ran up to her, a little out of breath. “Hey. Want to walk home together?”

She didn’t answer right away. But she didn’t walk off either.

You pointed to your drink. “I have another juice box.”

Pause. Then: “What flavor?”

Your heart did a little dance.

“Peach.”

Ningning took it from you without another word and started walking. You grinned and followed.

Behind you, somewhere on school grounds, someone whispered, “No way. She actually tamed her.”

You didn’t turn around. Just skipped a little to catch up.

Besties, obviously.

You didn’t realize you’d become a campus-wide mystery until someone tried to interview you in the girl’s bathroom.

You were washing your hands, humming the theme song to your cat’s favorite cartoon (because of course Waffles had taste), when a third-year with half her hair dyed blue stepped up beside you and casually asked, “So… are you and Ningning dating?”

You blinked. “Wait, what?”

“Or like, just talking?” she added. “Talking-talking. You know.”

You stared at her like she’d asked if you were secretly a tax evader. “We talk, yeah. I mean, I talk. She… tolerates.”

The girl gave you a skeptical once-over, clearly unconvinced. “You brought her a juice box yesterday.”

“I had two! And she looked dehydrated!”

The door swung open before she could press further, you took the escape route immediately, hands still slightly damp, nearly tripping over your own shoelaces as you scrambled back into the hallway.

It wasn’t the first time someone had said something weird. But it was the first time someone had said it to your face. Mostly it was just whispers, quiet, almost reverent.

You thought it was all exaggerated.

Sure, Ningning had a reputation. The kind that echoed in the halls, whispered in homeroom, and showed up in very dramatic posts on the school’s anonymous confession board. People said she never smiled, never spoke unless she had to, and could kill a rumor with one glare.

And yeah, maybe she did have that look. half bored, half annoyed, with eyeliner that could cut glass and the fashion sense of someone who knew exactly how hot she was but didn’t care.

But she wasn’t scary. Not to you. She was quiet, sure. She had this calm, still energy like a lake you weren’t sure was shallow or hiding a sea monster. But if you talked long enough, she answered. If you followed her, she didn’t walk away. If you gave her juice, she drank it.

You liked to think that meant something.

Still, the stares kept coming.

In homeroom, you plopped into the seat beside her like always, digging through your bag for a pen you swore you packed.

“You know,” you said, still rummaging, “I think my backpack eats stationery. There’s probably a whole civilization of lost pens and hair ties living in here.”

Ningning didn’t say anything. Just nudged a spare pen toward your side of the desk with a single, precise motion.

You beamed at her. “See, this is why you’re my favorite.”

From across the room, someone dropped their pencil. Hard. As if the sheer sound of you speaking to Ningning broke their hand-eye coordination.

You didn’t notice. Or pretended not to.

At lunch, it got worse.

You’d started sitting with her weeks ago at first just tagging along, then earning an eye-roll of acceptance. Now it was a thing. You sat beside her. Her friends tolerated you. And sometimes, when you brought a good snack, they even smiled.

You were halfway through an animated story about how Waffles had figured out how to open the treat drawer (“She’s so smart. She’s gonna evolve thumbs and replace me soon.”), when you leaned over and poked Ningning’s arm. Just a light tap. Nothing special.

She turned toward you, raising a brow. “What?”

“You’re not listening,” you accused.

“I am.”

“What did I say?”

“That your cat is probably smarter than you.”

You gasped. “You were listening! That’s so rude. And correct.”

From the next table over, a girl actually whispered, “Oh my god.” Like she’d just witnessed a miracle.

You looked around and finally noticed the eyes. The subtle tilts of heads. The sideways glances full of shock and awe. And Ningning, totally unbothered, quietly stabbing at her salad with her fork like she wasn’t the most talked-about person in school.

“Am I in a documentary?” you whispered. “Do I look okay? Should I pose?”

“You’re ridiculous,” Ningning muttered, but the corner of her mouth twitched. Barely.

You saw it.

So did everyone else.

Someone gasped. Audibly.

The table behind you fell into dead silence. One guy actually dropped his chopsticks.

You leaned in, wide-eyed. “Did you just almost smile?”

“No.”

“You did. Ningning. That’s a crime. That’s—wait, no, don’t hide your face. Let me see. I’m filing a report. I’m telling the press.”

She elbowed you lightly, and you grinned so hard your face hurt.

Later that day, in the hallway after gym, you overheard it again.

“Is that her? The one who sits with Ningning?”

“Yeah. She called her pretty once and didn’t die.”

You nearly walked into a locker.

A group of students near the stairwell were whispering with the intensity of people discussing a forbidden artifact. When you passed, they all hushed. One of them even gave you a subtle nod, like you were part of a secret club.

You didn’t know what to do with that.

You stopped by the vending machine, still processing, and jumped when Ningning appeared beside you like a fashionable ghost.

“Hey!” you smiled, instinctively offering your unopened drink. “I got two again.”

She took it wordlessly and leaned against the wall while you stared at the machine like it had betrayed you (which, to be fair, it had your chips got stuck halfway down).

You sighed. “Why does everyone think we’re dating?”

Ningning glanced at you. “They do?”

“Yup. Full-on love story levels. It’s wild.”

She didn’t reply right away. Just watched you tilt your head at the vending machine and mutter about physics and snack injustice.

Then she said, “It’s probably the juice.”

You looked at her. “What?”

“Or the way you follow me everywhere.”

You blinked. “But I do that to like, three other people too.”

She rolled her eyes. “You don’t bring them drinks.”

You tilted your head. “Wait. Are you saying I’m special?”

She stared. Unblinking.

You grinned. “You like me.”

“Don’t make it weird.”

“Too late.”

She exhaled through her nose. Turned to leave.

You followed, of course.

And behind you, someone whispered, “Okay, maybe they are dating.”

You didn’t even bother correcting them.

It started with the seat.

At first, you thought it was coincidence. A lucky fluke. You walked into homeroom a little later than usual, blame Waffles, who had decided your sock drawer was the perfect place to throw up a hairball and by the time you got there, half the class was already seated. You scanned the room, expecting to have to wedge yourself between strangers or, worse, sit alone.

But there it was.

The seat next to Ningning. Empty.

Not a bag on it. Not a textbook. Not even someone hovering nearby like they were thinking about claiming it.

You hesitated for half a second because you were pretty sure someone else had been eyeing that spot earlier in the week but then Ningning glanced up from her phone and gave the tiniest, subtlest head tilt.

Permission.

You plopped down beside her like you hadn’t just won the student council lottery. “Thanks for saving it,” you said, half teasing.

“I didn’t,” she replied flatly.

“Right. Of course. It just happens to be available every day. Reserved by fate.”

She didn’t answer. Just unlocked her phone again.

But the next day, the same thing happened. And the day after that. And the next. Every time you walked in on time, late, sleep-deprived, it was there. Your spot. Next to her.

You started calling it “home base.” She started pretending not to hear you.

The notes came later.

You weren’t exactly bad at math. You just… processed it like an abstract painting. Vaguely. Emotionally. With a lot of guessing and spiraling into existential dread.

So when your teacher started speed-running logarithmic functions like he was trying to win a prize, you froze halfway through copying an equation and whispered, “Okay, what the hell is happening?”

Ningning didn’t say anything.

Just reached into her folder, tore out a page, neat handwriting, highlighted formulas, even a tiny doodle of a cat in the margin and slid it over to you without a word.

You stared. “This is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

“It’s not,” she muttered.

“It is. I’m framing this. I’m putting it in a shrine. I’m naming my firstborn after you.”

“Don’t.”

“Too late. Baby Ningning’s gonna be so proud.”

Despite herself, her mouth twitched. A twitch that almost became a smile. And the back of the class went quiet again, like witnessing any emotion from her triggered an auto-silence reflex.

You leaned closer. “You know, for someone with a scary reputation, you’re dangerously soft.”

“I will take that paper back.”

“You won’t.”

“I might.”

“You won’t. Because you love me.”

She turned, expression blank. “Shut up and solve the problem.”

“You so love me.”

She sighed, long and suffering. “I really don’t.”

You poked her arm. “Liar.”

She didn’t respond.

But when the bell rang and you gathered your things in a flurry of paper and sparkly pens, she tucked her notes back into your binder before you could forget them.

The third time it happened, you weren’t even there.

You were in the library when it started. returning a late book (with your sincerest apologies and a donut for the librarian) and humming some stupid jingle under your breath, oblivious as always.

Across the courtyard, back in homeroom, some kid thought it’d be funny to make a comment.

Nothing mean, really. Just stupid. The kind of joke people think is harmless, even though it sticks like gum on your shoe. He’d glanced at your desk, laughed under his breath, and said, “Ningning must have the patience of a saint. I’d go deaf if I sat next to her every day.”

A few kids chuckled.

Ningning didn’t.

She didn’t even look up at first. Just kept scrolling on her phone. Then, slowly, she locked the screen and turned her head, eyes sharp and unreadable.

“Try saying that again when she’s here,” she said, voice calm.

The room fell silent.

The guy blinked, startled. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“I—uh—was just joking.”

She stared.

It wasn’t the kind of glare that screamed or snarled or threatened. It was worse. It was silent. Cutting. The kind that made people suddenly rethink their life choices.

The boy stammered something that resembled an apology and promptly shut up. Someone behind him whispered “Damn,” under their breath.

When you came back fifteen minutes later, chattering about how the librarian had accepted your peace-offering donut but made you promise to actually return things on time, Ningning didn’t mention it.

But a few of her friends glanced at each other as you sat down, smacked your head gently against your desk, and sighed about overdue fees like they were a moral failure.

Ningning slid one of your glitter pens back across the table to you.

You hadn’t even noticed it had fallen.

Little things.

That’s how she did it.

She never said it outright. Never admitted anything. But she was always there. Quiet. Consistent. Soft in the ways she thought you wouldn’t notice.

She saved you a seat, even if she denied it. Gave you her notes without asking why. Carried an extra hair tie after you complained about forgetting yours during gym. Learned your favorite vending machine snack and never said a word when she started grabbing two.

And you the sunshine that you were never stopped showing up.

Because some part of you knew. Underneath the glares and the sighs and the deadpan comebacks, she cared.

And maybe she wasn’t ready to say it yet.

But that was okay.

Because you were fluent in soft grump care. And you had all the time in the world.

It was supposed to be a normal afternoon.

The sky had been clear when you left for school. Not a single suspicious cloud. Birds were chirping. You were whistling. Life was good.

And then fifth period ended, and apparently, the weather decided to throw hands.

The downpour hit like a sucker punch, sheets of rain hammering the courtyard, the sidewalk, the tiny sad trees lining the school’s front gate. You watched it all from the lobby doors, backpack slung over your shoulder, holding your half-collapsed, questionably sturdy umbrella like it might magically fix itself if you just stared hard enough.

Spoiler: it didn’t.

You nudged it open with a painful squeak, only for the left side to snap backward like a dying bat wing. Awesome. Fantastic. Peak freshman energy.

Around you, other students huddled under real umbrellas or dashed to waiting cars. You stood there, juice box still in your pocket from lunch, weighing your options like a soldier before battle.

Option one: brave it with your sad excuse for an umbrella and look like a wet cryptid.

Option two: perish.

You were seriously leaning toward option three when a shadow fell over you.

You turned.

And there she was.

Ningning, standing at your side, an umbrella tilted casually over her shoulder, rain sliding harmlessly down the black fabric. She wore the same deadpan expression she always did, but there was a flicker barely there in her eyes.

Without a word, she shoved her hoodie into your chest.

You caught it awkwardly, blinking. “Wait—what—?”

“You’re gonna catch a cold,” she said, voice flat.

You looked down at the hoodie. It was soft. Slightly oversized. Smelled like clean laundry and something faintly like vanilla.

You looked back up at her, beaming. “You do like me!”

“I don’t.”

“You dooo~” you sing-songed, hugging the hoodie to your chest like a trophy. “You’re giving me your actual clothes. That’s best friend behavior. That’s soulmate behavior.”

Ningning rolled her eyes, but she moved closer so the umbrella covered you both anyway.

You slipped the hoodie over your head, laughing when the sleeves swallowed your hands. “I’m keeping this forever, by the way. This is mine now.”

“Return it tomorrow.”

“I’ll think about it.”

She huffed under her breath a tiny, almost imperceptible sound that you decided to translate as affection.

You grinned up at her. “You’re like a stray cat that keeps pretending it doesn’t want pets, but keeps showing up on my porch anyway.”

“Stop talking.”

“I won’t.”

The two of you started walking, your shoes splashing through shallow puddles, rain pattering on the umbrella above you like a quiet drumbeat. Ningning didn’t say much, she never did but she didn’t pull away when you bumped shoulders accidentally-on-purpose.

And when you turned your face up to her again, soaking in her rare company like sunshine, she finally gave in. A sigh. The faintest tug at the corner of her lips.

A smile.

Tiny. Blink-and-you’ll-miss-it.

But real.

You almost tripped over your own feet.

“Worth it,” you whispered under your breath, tucking your hands deeper into the too-long hoodie sleeves, grinning so wide your cheeks hurt.

Ningning glanced sideways at you.

She didn’t say it.

But you were pretty sure she was thinking it too.

Worth it.

It happened on a Thursday.

The rain from earlier in the week was long gone, leaving the air sticky and heavy, the pavement still damp in some places. You and Ningning had ended up sitting under the big oak tree at the edge of the field. half because you were waiting for a club meeting to start, half because Ningning never seemed to mind when you followed her around like a dedicated golden retriever.

You were doodling aimlessly in your notebook, trying to draw Waffles in increasingly ridiculous outfits, while Ningning scrolled through her phone beside you, pretending not to watch over your shoulder.

And you, like the sunshine oblivious hurricane you were, started talking without really thinking.

“Y’know, I used to sit by myself a lot at my old school,” you said casually, punctuating the sentence by sketching a tiny cowboy hat onto Waffles' head. “At lunch, at assemblies, whatever. It wasn’t, like, tragic or anything. People just kinda… forgot I existed sometimes.”

You laughed, light and unbothered, like you were telling a mildly embarrassing story about tripping onstage during a school play.

“They didn’t mean to, I guess. I’m pretty easy to forget if I’m not being loud. And when I am being loud, it’s just, like—annoying? So either way, it was easier for everyone if I just kept myself company.”

You laughed again, shrugging it off like you always did. Like it was fine. Like it was ancient history and it didn’t still ache sometimes, in small quiet ways you didn’t like to admit.

Ningning was silent.

Not her usual comfortable quiet, either. Not the kind where she was just content to let you ramble while she listened with half an ear.

This was different.

You glanced sideways at her.

She was staring straight ahead, phone forgotten in her lap, hands still.

For a second, you wondered if you’d messed up. If you’d made it awkward. If you should backpedal, crack a stupid joke, move on.

But before you could say anything, she spoke.

“They were stupid.”

The words came out low. Certain.

You blinked.

Ningning didn’t look at you. Just kept her gaze fixed on the soccer goals in the distance, the metal frames catching the late afternoon light.

“They were stupid,” she said again, voice steady but something else threading underneath it. “Anyone who made you feel like you didn’t matter. Anyone who looked at you and didn’t see—” she stopped, mouth tightening, like she wasn’t used to dragging feelings into the open air, “—everything you are.”

Your breath caught.

She finally turned her head, just enough that you could see her eyes. Serious. Unflinching. A little bit fierce in a way that made your heart clench.

“You’re not annoying,” she added, softer. “You’re... loud sometimes. And stubborn. And you talk too much.”

You snorted, wiping at your nose with your sleeve. “Wow. Compliments galore.”

“But you’re unforgettable,” she said, ignoring your crack completely. “And anyone who didn’t get that was an idiot.”

You didn’t know what to say.

The words stuck in your throat, tangled up with something warm and painful at the same time.

Because you realized, suddenly, that Ningning your silent, scowly, reluctant partner in crime wasn’t just saying it to be nice. She wasn’t saying it because she felt bad for you, or because she thought it was what you wanted to hear.

She meant it.

Every clipped, awkward, vulnerable word.

You laughed, too loud and a little watery. “You’re gonna make me cry, dude.”

“Don’t,” she said immediately, stiffening like the idea of dealing with tears was more terrifying than death.

You wiped your eyes anyway, grinning. “No promises.”

For a few seconds, neither of you spoke.

The breeze picked up, rustling the leaves above your heads. Someone whistled off in the distance, probably a soccer player wrapping up practice. Life kept moving around you.

But under the oak tree, it felt like the world had gone a little quieter. A little softer.

You scooted closer, knocking your shoulder lightly against hers.

Ningning didn’t move away.

You smiled at her, wide and blinding, because that’s what you did what you’d always done and because for once, you didn’t feel like you had to hide any piece of yourself.

“Thanks, grumpy cat.”

She rolled her eyes.

But a second later, when she thought you weren’t looking, she smiled too.

Small. Crooked. Real.

And maybe just maybe you weren’t as easy to forget as you used to believe.

It started with a new transfer student.

A week into the new semester, the classroom door swung open mid-morning, and in walked a boy with a bright grin, messy hair, and a charm level dangerously close to yours. Mr. Kwon, your homeroom teacher, introduced him as Jisung, transfer from another city, loves soccer, hates math, yadda yadda.

You were, of course, the first to wave enthusiastically, practically bouncing in your seat as you whispered, “New kid energy! Solidarity!” loud enough that half the class heard. Including Ningning, who gave you a look from across the room like you had personally offended her peace treaty with humanity.

Jisung ended up sitting two seats away from you. Which meant within three minutes, you were already chatting like you’d been childhood friends separated at birth.

You told him about the cafeteria’s tragic spaghetti days. He told you about getting lost in the gym for forty minutes during his tour. You bonded over mutual juice box obsessions.

It was harmless.

At least, you thought it was harmless.

The first time you noticed anything weird was lunch.

You and Jisung were heading toward your usual table when you almost dropped your tray. Ningning already sitting at the table, which she never did before you came along, looked up the second she saw you with someone new.

There was something sharp in her gaze. Something that made you falter mid-step.

She didn’t say anything. Just shoved an empty seat out with her foot, the scrape of metal on tile loud in the silence between you.

“Oh, uh—this is Jisung!” you chirped, awkwardly filling the air. “He’s cool. He got lost in the gym for forty minutes, so obviously he’s one of us now.”

Jisung gave a bright, clueless wave.

Ningning stared at him. Unblinking.

Poor guy looked like he aged five years under her gaze.

You rushed to sit down between them, laughing nervously. "Haha, so anyway, spaghetti today, right? Amazing. Life-changing. Michelin star."

Ningning said nothing. Just kept eating her rice like it personally wronged her.

You chalked it up to her being in a mood.

Until it kept happening.

Every time Jisung showed up next to you at lunch, after class, even during study hall, Ningning suddenly materialized too. Like clockwork. Like some grumpy guardian angel.

She never interrupted. Never said a word, really.

But she was there.

Hovering just close enough that you couldn’t forget it.

One afternoon, while you were trying to teach Jisung how to make those weird origami ninja stars (“Trust the process!” you kept saying as his kept collapsing into sad paper blobs), Ningning leaned back against the wall a few feet away, arms crossed, watching.

And scowling.

And watching.

And scowling.

And every now and then, when you laughed a little too loud at Jisung’s dramatic paper-folding failures, her jaw would tighten just slightly.

It didn’t take long for her friends to catch on.

You found out the hard way when you heard a loud cough-cough “jealousy” (cough) from across the hallway.

Giselle was nearly falling off the bench she was sitting on, stifling laughter. Winter openly pointed at Ningning, mouthing something that looked suspiciously like “go get your girl”.

Karina, calm as ever, just sipped her iced coffee and raised one eyebrow, the universal signal for (we know everything, and we are judging you in the most loving way possible.)

Ningning, for her part, responded with a glare so icy it could’ve frozen the sun.

You, being your usual oblivious self, just waved at them all happily.

“Hi, guys!”

Karina choked on her drink.

Giselle had to walk away, giggling under her breath.

Winter looked like she might start filming the scene for posterity.

Meanwhile, Ningning stood stiffly at your side, the tips of her ears just barely pink.

You tugged on her sleeve without thinking, grinning up at her. “You okay? You look kinda warm? Want my juice box? It’s grape today.”

Ningning stared at you.

For a second, you thought she might actually say something sassy. Maybe tell you off. Maybe tease you.

Instead, she reached out and took the juice box without a word.

You blinked.

Giselle, thirty feet away, made an audible squeal sound.

Winter’s hands slapped over her mouth like she couldn’t believe what she just witnessed.

And Karina just nodded solemnly, like she was presiding over a historic event.

You had no idea what any of it meant.

But Ningning cracked the tiniest smirk around the straw as she sipped your grape juice.

And for some reason, your heart did the stupidest little flip.

It was just another normal afternoon.

Or it should’ve been, anyway.

You were out in the courtyard again, sitting cross-legged on the grass with your backpack flopped open beside you, laughing way too hard at something Jisung said. He was holding your phone dramatically like he’d just discovered the funniest meme on earth, and you were practically rolling, snorting so loudly that a nearby group of seniors turned around.

From across the field, Ningning watched.

Or more accurately, glared.

She sat perched on one of the low stone walls, arms crossed tight over her chest, foot tapping an impatient rhythm against the rock. Her brows were drawn together, mouth twisted in a flat line. The late sun lit up her hair like a halo, but there was nothing remotely angelic about the look she was sending in your direction.

Winter plopped down next to her, sipping her milk tea without a care in the world.

“Wow,” Winter said, after a few long seconds of heavy silence. “You know you’re glaring like you’re planning a murder, right?”

Ningning didn’t answer.

Instead, she narrowed her eyes further as Jisung nudged you with his shoulder and you laughed again, bright, sunny, a sound that made half the courtyard turn to look.

Winter raised an eyebrow. “Seriously. If looks could kill, he’d be six feet under already.”

Still no answer.

Just more death-staring.

Winter leaned closer, lowering her voice to a stage whisper. “You could just admit it, y'know.”

Ningning’s hands tightened where they rested on her arms. Her jaw clenched. Something uncoiled in her chest. hot and sharp and way too big to keep swallowing down anymore.

And before she could stop herself, before she could even think about stopping herself, she snapped:

“She’s mine—!”

The words rang out louder than she intended, cutting through the lazy hum of the courtyard.

Winter choked on her drink.

Ningning froze, realizing exactly what just came out of her mouth.

“I mean—” she sputtered immediately, face flushing faster than a struck match, “not mine mine. Just—! She’s—! I—! Shut up!”

Winter was wheezing now, half from surprise, half from unholy glee.

“Oh my god,” she gasped, clutching her side like she was physically in pain from holding in her laughter. “You actually said it. Out loud. In public. I’m never letting you live this down.”

Ningning practically leapt off the wall, hands fisted at her sides, burning with mortification. “I hate you,” she hissed under her breath.

“No you don’t,” Winter grinned, slapping her on the back as she passed.

Ningning muttered something incoherent and stormed across the courtyard, away from the scene of the crime, away from the warmth bubbling in her throat that she didn’t know how to deal with.

She didn’t even check if you heard.

She couldn’t.

If she looked back and saw you staring, saw you smiling at her the way you always did, open and blinding and so much. she wasn’t sure she’d survive it.

Not yet.

Not when she hadn’t figured out how to say it properly. How to tell you that somehow, without her even noticing it happen, you had become her favorite noise in a world that used to feel way too silent.

That you had made a home for yourself right inside her ribs, careless and fearless and so stupidly bright.

She wasn’t ready for you to know all that.

Not yet.

But maybe soon.

Maybe sooner than she thought.

It started out subtle.

You weren’t exactly the best at reading normal social cues, half the time you thought someone glaring at you meant they needed a hug but even you could tell something was weird.

Ningning was around more. Like, a lot more. You’d turn a corner and she’d be there, leaning against a locker. You’d walk into class and find her already sitting at your desk, idly flipping through your doodle-filled notebook. You’d get to lunch and she’d be saving a seat for you, one foot braced against the chair so no one else dared take it.

But she was… different.

Quieter.

Tighter.

Before, Ningning’s grumpiness had a sort of dry, almost playful edge when it came to you. Now? It felt heavier. Like there was something sitting on her chest she wasn’t saying.

And the looks God, the looks.

They were sharper. Longer. Like she was trying to figure out a puzzle where the pieces kept changing. Like maybe you were the puzzle, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to throw it across the room or frame it on the wall.

At first you brushed it off.

Maybe she was just tired. Midterms were coming up. You’d seen people lose their minds over physics homework for less.

But then it kept happening.

One afternoon, you were sitting under the old oak tree near the field, sketching random nonsense in your notebook. Jisung plopped down beside you, waving a bag of gummy bears like a peace offering, and you accepted them with a grin.

Mid-laugh, you glanced up and there she was.

Ningning.

Across the courtyard, leaning against the fence, watching.

Expression unreadable.

Eyes sharp enough to slice through the breeze.

You gave her a big wave, cheerfully flapping your arms.

She didn’t wave back.

Just stared.

For the first time in a long time, something in your chest twinged, not painful, exactly, but confusing in a way that made you want to wrap yourself in ten layers of hoodies and hide.

You turned back to Jisung, still smiling, but it felt wobbly now. Like a table with one leg too short.

It all came to a head two days later.

You were leaving history class, backpack slung lazily over one shoulder, juice box in your hand (today's flavor: tropical punch), when Ningning fell into step beside you.

You blinked at her. She didn’t usually walk you to your next class unless she had something to say. But today, she just… walked. Silent. Brooding.

You glanced sideways at her. She looked like she was thinking about fifty things at once and none of them were nice.

After three minutes of heavy silence, you couldn’t take it anymore.

You skidded to a dramatic stop in the middle of the hallway, causing a freshman to nearly crash into you.

Ningning halted too, blinking down at you with a flicker of surprise.

You poked her lightly in the arm with your straw. “Okay. Real talk.”

She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

You took a deep breath, puffing your cheeks out before exhaling in a rush. “Did I do something wrong? You’re looking at me like I ate your cat.”

For a second, Ningning just stared at you.

Something flickered across her face. something almost like guilt, but faster, slipperier, gone before you could really catch it.

You shifted your juice box from one hand to the other, trying to smile even though your stomach twisted a little.

“If I, like, stepped on your vibe or whatever, you can just tell me,” you said, voice a little too chipper around the edges. “I’ll make it up to you. I’ll even buy you, like, three grape juice boxes. That’s friendship inflation, you know.”

Still, no answer.

Ningning’s gaze dropped to the floor.

And then she just... shrugged.

Shrugged like you hadn’t just offered her the sun.

Shrugged like none of it mattered.

The shrug hurt more than if she’d shoved you away.

Before you could say anything else, she muttered something under her breath, too soft to catch and turned, walking off down the hall like she was late for something.

Leaving you standing there.

Juice box limp in your hand.

Heart sinking just a little too low.

You stared after her, biting your lip.

For a second, a tiny, reckless second you wanted to chase after her. Grab her hand. Demand she tell you what was wrong because you could feel it pressing between you, thick and heavy and real.

But you didn’t.

You stood there for a beat longer, feeling stupid and heavy in a way you didn’t quite know how to name.

Then you shook yourself like a wet dog, slapped a too-bright smile back on your face, and marched toward your next class.

Maybe Ningning was just having a bad day.

Maybe you were reading too much into things.

Maybe you should just give her space.

Even if it stung.

You jammed your straw into your juice box and took an angry sip.

Tropical punch had never tasted so sour.

It was a slow unraveling.

Not the kind you noticed all at once. Not like a slap to the face or a door slammed in anger.

It was softer.

Quieter.

The kind of unraveling that you only realized was happening when you looked down one day and found the thread wrapped around your fingers, frayed and half-gone, without even knowing you'd been pulling it.

It started small.

Ningning stopped waiting for you after class.

Stopped looking up when you bounced into the room, waving your latest juice box or ridiculous meme at her like a trophy.

She still showed up sometimes, still sat in the same lunch spot, still walked down the same hallways but there was a new kind of distance now. A carefulness.

Like you were something she was trying not to touch.

At first you told yourself it was fine.

Maybe she was just busy. Maybe she was stressed. Maybe her cat had a dentist appointment. You could come up with a million reasons if you tried hard enough.

But it kept happening.

One morning, you rushed into homeroom ten minutes late, hair a mess, socks mismatched, clutching two coffees from the convenience store because you knew she’d forgotten breakfast again.

You slammed the cup down on her desk with a big, stupid grin. "Fuel for the grumpiest grump," you chirped.

Ningning barely glanced at it.

Barely glanced at you.

Just muttered a quiet, distracted thanks and went back to scribbling in her notebook.

Something in your chest dipped, low and heavy.

You stood there for a second, holding your own coffee with both hands, feeling like you’d just been left hanging in the middle of a high five.

And because it was you, because smiling was what you were good at, you just beamed wider, letting your voice stay bright.

“No worries!” you said, popping the straw into your coffee with a too-loud stab. “I know I’m a lot. Like... a lot a lot. Probably not what you signed up for when you answered that first question, huh?"

You laughed, short and airy.

She didn’t laugh back.

Didn’t even look at you.

And God, if that didn’t sting worse than anything else.

You sank into your seat beside her, pressing your coffee cup against your cheek like it could cool the heat rising under your skin.

Tried to focus on the blackboard. Tried not to hear the way your own heartbeat sounded too loud in your ears. Tried not to think about the way Ningning was sitting just a few inches away but felt like she was miles and miles out of reach.

Maybe you were too much.

Maybe you always had been.

People liked you at first, sunshine was easy to love when it wasn’t burning too close but eventually they drifted away. Got tired. Got annoyed. Left you blinking in the middle of an empty hallway, wondering what you’d done wrong.

You were used to it.

You’d learned how to patch over it with jokes and glitter pens and loud, messy smiles that made it hard for anyone to notice the cracks underneath.

You weren’t going to make Ningning feel guilty for that.

Not when she'd been the first person here to make you feel like you weren't shouting into a void.

Not when you still liked her way too much for your own good.

The bell rang, sharp and sudden, and you jumped a little.

Ningning was already packing up.

You watched her zip her bag and stand, hoodie sleeves pulled down over her hands like she didn’t want to touch anything bare.

She didn’t say goodbye.

Just walked out, shoulders hunched tighter than usual.

You stared after her, chewing your lip.

And then, like an idiot, you smiled again.

Waved at her retreating back even though she couldn’t see it.

“It’s okay,” you whispered to yourself, voice light, joking, the way it always was when things started to ache too much. “You probably just need space. I get it. I’m a lot sometimes. Loud and messy and—” you paused, squeezing your eyes shut for a second, “—and it’s okay."

You tucked your coffee cup under your arm, grabbed your backpack, and headed for your next class with your usual spring in your step.

If anyone noticed that your bounce was a little slower that day, no one said anything.

And that was fine.

Really.

You were used to walking on your own when people got tired of the sunshine.

You could do it again.

You just… kind of wished you didn’t have to.

It wasn’t even supposed to happen like that.

Ningning had convinced herself she was doing the right thing, giving you space, making sure she didn’t drag you down into the mess of her own fears. She thought if she pulled back first, it wouldn’t hurt so much when you got bored. When you realized she wasn’t worth the trouble.

But the thing about sunshine was, it didn’t just go away quietly.

It dimmed.

It flickered.

And Ningning noticed.

It was in the way you didn’t rush to her side in the mornings anymore. You still smiled, still waved, but sometimes it took you a second longer, like you were checking first to see if you were welcome.

It was in the way you sat with your hands folded too neatly on your desk, fidgeting with your pen instead of nudging her arm and whispering about how your cat Waffles tried to eat a shoelace again.

It was in the way you caught yourself before reaching for her, pulling back at the last second with a small, polite laugh that made her chest hurt more than she knew how to explain.

Ningning knew she’d messed up.

She just didn’t know how badly until Yujin cornered her after lunch.

It wasn’t even a dramatic thing. No shouting, no slammed lockers. Yujin just leaned against the wall by the courtyard door, arms crossed, watching her with that calm, steady look that said she wasn’t here to play around.

"You think I don’t see it?” Yujin said, voice low. “You think none of us notice how she looks at you like you hung the damn stars?”

Ningning didn’t answer.

Didn’t meet her eyes.

Yujin pushed off the wall, stepping closer. Not threatening, just there, solid and impossible to ignore.

“If you’re going to make her sad,” she said, quiet but cutting, “you don’t get to keep her.”

The words landed sharp in Ningning’s gut.

She didn’t say anything for a long second.

Couldn’t.

Because she knew it was true.

You deserved better than someone who pushed you away because they were too scared to hold on.

Someone who let their own stupid fears take up more space than you.

Someone who was too much of a coward to just tell you the truth: that you mattered. That you were the brightest thing that had ever crashed into her world and she didn’t know how to live without you now.

“You’re hurting her,” Yujin added, a little softer. “And you don’t even see it, do you?”

Ningning opened her mouth.

Closed it again.

Because the truth was, she had seen it.

Had seen the tiny cracks in your smile, the way your eyes flickered down when she didn’t answer right away, the way you clutched your books a little too tightly sometimes, like you needed something to hold on to.

And she hated it.

Hated that she had done that to you.

Yujin sighed, like she was tired of being the voice of reason. "If you don't want her," she said, shrugging one shoulder, "someone else will."

The idea twisted something ugly in Ningning’s chest.

Because the thought of you turning that bright, blinding smile toward someone else, someone who wouldn’t hesitate to catch it, someone who wouldn’t freeze up at the weight of being wanted made her feel like she couldn’t breathe.

And for the first time, Ningning realized:

It wasn’t about protecting herself anymore.

It wasn’t about being safe.

It was about losing you.

And that was something she couldn't live with.

Not now.

Not ever.

She stood there long after Yujin walked away, the courtyard empty around her, the cold spring air biting at her skin. Thinking about the way you used to beam at her without hesitation. About the way you had looked today, smiling still, always smiling, but not reaching anymore.

She’d done that.

And if she didn’t fix it soon, she was going to lose the only person who had ever made her feel like she was more than just the grumpy girl everyone was scared of.

She didn’t know exactly how to fix it yet.

But she knew one thing:

She had to try.

Because you deserved someone who wasn’t afraid to stay.

And she wanted to be that person.

For you.

It started with the empty desk.

At first, Ningning told herself not to overthink it. Maybe you were running late. Maybe you had a dentist appointment. Maybe you just... weren’t feeling it today. It wasn’t like you owed her your presence every second of every day.

Except,

Except you always said good morning.

You always found her, somehow, even if you were half-asleep or juggling three juice boxes and a backpack that looked like it might swallow you whole.

You always showed up.

And today... nothing.

The clock ticked louder than usual. The seat beside her stayed stubbornly empty. Her hand kept twitching toward her phone under the desk.

By lunchtime, Ningning had abandoned all dignity.

“Have you seen Y/N?” she asked one of her classmates some guy who always sat two rows behind them and barely knew her.

He blinked at her like she’d grown two heads.

“No?” he squeaked. “Did she quit the school?”

Ningning almost bit his head off on the spot.

By the end of lunch, she’d asked at least five people and gotten zero answers, and her friends were starting to stare at her like she’d finally lost it.

Then Yujin, who was way too smug for someone who hadn't even helped, leaned in and said, “Her best friend’s by the vending machines.”

Ningning didn’t even hesitate.

She found the girl easily enough, leaning against the wall, sipping a soda, scrolling on her phone. Y/N’s friend, the sunshine-protector who always hovered nearby, watching with wary eyes.

Ningning didn’t bother with small talk.

"Where is she?"

The girl looked up, eyebrows raised. “Who’s asking?”

Ningning scowled. “Me.”

There was a long moment where Y/N’s friend just stared at her. Weighing. Judging. Probably remembering every time Ningning had made you look a little sad, a little confused.

Then, finally, she said, “She’s sick. Stayed home.”

Relief hit Ningning so hard her knees almost gave out.

Sick. Not gone. Not transferred away without saying goodbye. Just sick.

“She’s fine,” the friend added, clearly reading her panic. “Texted me this morning. Just a cold.”

Ningning should’ve left it at that.

She didn’t.

"Where does she live?"

The words were out before she could stop them.

The friend tilted her head, suspicious. “Why?”

Ningning hesitated. Felt the weight of every unspoken thing she hadn’t said to you pressing down on her.

"I just..." She scratched the back of her neck, cheeks burning. "I wanna make sure she’s okay."

Something flickered in the girl’s eyes. Approval, maybe. Or resignation.

“She likes strawberry milk,” was all she said before rattling off an address.

Ningning barely heard her over the thundering of her own heart.

Standing in front of your house half an hour later After school, clutching a bag from the corner store like a complete idiot, Ningning almost turned around five times.

This was stupid.

You probably didn’t even want to see her.

You probably had real friends, better friends, who didn’t ignore you for a week and then show up on your doorstep with strawberry milk and panic in their chest.

Still.

She rang the doorbell.

A second later, the door swung open and there you were, wrapped in a giant hoodie, hair a mess, nose red from blowing it too much. You looked like a fever dream.

Literally.

For a second, you just blinked at her.

Then you said, voice scratchy and small, “Ningning?”

Her throat closed up.

She shoved the bag at you, cheeks burning. “You’re sick. I brought stuff.”

You stared at the bag, then at her.

Then, softly, “You didn’t have to.”

Ningning wanted to say, ”I know.”

Wanted to say, ”I wanted to.”

Wanted to say, ”I miss you.”

Instead, she mumbled, “It’s not a big deal.”

Liar.

You smiled a little, the tired kind of smile, but still real. Still you.

And Ningning’s chest ached.

Behind her words, in the back of her mind, she could still hear Yujin’s voice: ”If you’re going to make her sad, you don’t get to keep her.”

She almost said it then.

Almost blurted out everything she was too scared to name.

But when you tilted your head, coughing into your sleeve and looking so small and sleepy and trusting, the fear won.

Again.

Ningning shoved her hands into her jacket pockets and said, “Get better soon. School’s boring without you.”

You laughed, even though it turned into a wheeze halfway through.

And Ningning the coward that she was just stood there for another second, burning the image of you into her mind, before mumbling some excuse about homework and walking away before she could do something reckless like kiss you.

Maybe someday she’d be brave enough to tell you the truth.

But for now...

She hoped the strawberry milk said enough.

There was a change. Small at first. Almost unnoticeable if you weren't looking for it.

But Ningning was looking.

It wasn’t that you stopped smiling, you still did, that bright, open grin she secretly looked for the second she walked into a room. You still bounced a little when you talked, still waved too enthusiastically when you spotted her across the quad. Still found reasons to be close, like the universe naturally spun you toward her orbit.

But there was a softness now. A hesitation.

When you laughed, it wasn’t quite as loud.

When you poked her arm to get her attention, it lingered just a second less.

When you talked, sometimes you would glance at her like you were searching for signs, permission, maybe to keep going.

Ningning hated it. Hated it because she knew she was the reason.

Ever since she'd shown up at your door like a walking panic attack, she hadn't known what to do with herself. Hadn’t said what she should’ve said. Hadn’t given you the words you so clearly deserved.

And now you were… retreating.

Still here, but holding yourself tighter.

She couldn’t stand it.

That’s why, one afternoon, when you sat beside her on the low wall outside school, knees tucked up, hands fiddling with the straw in your juice box, Ningning finally cracked.

"You mad at me?" she blurted out.

You blinked at her, startled. “What?”

She shifted uncomfortably, shoving her hands deep into her hoodie pockets. “You're... different.”

You looked down at your drink, straw bobbing uselessly in the carton. Your voice, when it came, was soft enough that she had to lean in to catch it.

“No. I’m not mad.”

A pause.

"I’m just scared you'll disappear if I say the wrong thing."

The words hit her like a gut punch.

You, you, the one who filled every silence with sunshine and easy laughter you were scared. Of her.

Ningning went still.

For a second, she didn’t know what to say. Every instinct screamed at her to fix it, to do something, anything to wipe that sadness from your voice.

But she remembered something you said once, on a day when you were teasing her about her stubbornness. “Sometimes people just need you to stay, dummy."

So she stayed.

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t pull away. Didn’t let the fear in her own chest take over.

Instead, Ningning leaned back slightly on her palms, gaze fixed somewhere over your head at the slowly darkening sky, and said in the quietest, most serious voice you’d ever heard from her:

"I’m not going anywhere."

You looked up at her then. Really looked.

And Ningning, for once, didn’t look away.

No sarcasm. No teasing deflection. Just the truth, raw and clumsy between them.

Your mouth wobbled, like you were trying not to cry or laugh or maybe both. Then, slowly, you leaned your shoulder against hers.

Not saying anything.

Not asking anything.

Just believing her.

Ningning felt something in her chest click into place like maybe, just maybe, she hadn’t already ruined everything.

Maybe it wasn’t too late to be the person you already thought she was.

It was one of those evenings when the world felt just a little softer. The sky had started bleeding into shades of gold and pink, and the lazy breeze carried the distant sounds of laughter from students still hanging around after school events.

Ningning and you had found yourselves tucked away on the bleachers near the back of the soccer field, your backpacks tossed carelessly at your feet, half-eaten snacks between you.

It was easy like this. Comfortable. Like there was no rush to be anywhere else.

You were sitting cross-legged, absently twirling the straw of your juice box, gaze flickering up toward the clouds with a distracted sort of wonder Ningning always secretly liked watching. She was leaning back on her palms, head tilted, pretending not to be waiting for you to say something because you always said something. It was just a matter of time.

But today you were quiet longer than usual. And for once, she found herself fidgeting first, glancing at you out of the corner of her eye.

Finally, you broke the silence.

"Hey…"

Your voice was light but nervous around the edges. Ningning immediately sat up a little straighter, wary.

"You know how you’re always saying I talk too much?" you asked, lips quirking in a soft smile.

Ningning snorted, the familiar reaction automatic. "Because you do."

Your grin grew, but it was gentler this time, almost fragile. You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and looked at her properly, and Ningning's chest tightened at how serious your eyes were, even though your mouth kept smiling like you were trying to make it easier for both of you.

"Then let me get this one last thing out before I explode, okay?" you said, almost sheepish.

She didn’t say anything. Just stared. Frozen in place.

You inhaled slowly, like you were pulling courage from the air itself, and then you said it. Gently. No fanfare. No dramatic buildup. Just the truth, small and seismic all at once.

"I like you. A lot. And I don’t expect you to say it back. I just wanted you to know."

There. It was out.

You looked down immediately, fiddling with your juice box, pretending like you weren’t desperately wishing the ground would swallow you whole. You didn’t even seem to expect an answer, you were ready to leave it hanging in the air, heavy and awkward if it needed to be.

Ningning, on the other hand, was malfunctioning.

She blinked at you. Once. Twice. Brain scrambling to catch up to the words that had just shattered whatever safe little bubble she thought she was living in.

She should say something. Anything.

But instead, her mouth refused to work, and her face betrayed her completely because she could feel the heat rushing up her neck, painting her cheeks in a furious, undeniable blush.

You peeked at her, saw it, and your lips twitched into the tiniest, bravest smile.

"It's okay," you said quickly, saving her from herself. "You don’t have to say anything."

And true to who you were, you didn’t push. You didn’t beg for an answer. You just sat there, picking at the edge of your shoe with a quiet kind of acceptance that made Ningning’s chest ache.

Because you were always like that.

Always giving more than you took.

Always making it easy for her to stay closed off if she needed to.

Ningning didn't say anything that day. She couldn't. Every instinct screamed at her to run or hide or pretend she hadn’t heard. And that terrified her more than anything else because for the first time, it wasn’t annoyance or obligation that kept her sitting beside you. It was the pure, aching need to be close to you.

The walk home was filled with comfortable nonsense chatter from you, mercifully moving on like nothing happened, giving Ningning the space she didn’t know she needed.

But that night, she barely slept. Tossed and turned, kicking herself for freezing up, for letting you pour your heart out and giving you nothing back.

The next day, she found you sitting under the same oak tree you always gravitated to during lunch, headphones in, sketching something in a notebook with that same determined little furrow between your brows.

Ningning stomped toward you before she could talk herself out of it.

You looked up, eyes brightening instinctively at the sight of her, even though there was a flicker of nervousness there too. Like you were bracing for the worst.

Ningning sat down beside you with a huff, tugging at a loose thread on her sleeve.

Then, grumbling under her breath, cheeks already burning again, she muttered: "You’re annoying."

You blinked, caught between laughter and confusion. Before you could open your mouth, she continued, glaring fiercely at the grass like it personally offended her:

"And I think I like you too. So don’t say it to anyone else, okay?"

You froze. Stared at her.

And then your grin broke out, huge and blinding and real, and Ningning had to look away before she embarrassed herself even more.

You bumped your shoulder against hers, laughing under your breath, and Ningning’s heart did something ugly and messy and beautiful all at once.

If she didn’t die from how ridiculously happy you looked, she might actually survive this after all.

From the outside, nothing looked official.

There were no grand declarations, no cutesy nicknames or couple selfies flooding the school group chats. Ningning and you simply… were.

But anyone who paid even a little attention could tell something had shifted.

Ningning, the same girl who once inspired urban legends about her death glare alone, now casually waited by your classroom door every day, pretending she just happened to be passing by. Her earbuds would be in, hood up, expression blank but the second you appeared, all bright smiles and stumbling steps, she'd straighten up, her gaze softening in a way that would’ve made the school population collectively faint if they hadn’t already become weirdly desensitized to it.

She didn’t even try to hide the way she leaned closer when you talked, close enough for your elbows to brush, close enough for your laugh to hit her full force. She didn’t explain why she sometimes pulled you into quieter hallways after class, using the flimsiest excuses ("Too noisy," "Don’t want to deal with people") just to have a moment alone where she could listen to you babble about your day without interruption.

And God help anyone who so much as looked at you for too long.

One afternoon, you were chatting animatedly with a kid from your biology lab, a friendly sort, maybe a little too friendly and Ningning materialized out of nowhere. She said nothing. Just stood there, arms crossed, expression dark enough to send the poor guy stammering out a goodbye before he'd even finished his sentence.

You watched him retreat with wide eyes, then turned to her, half-laughing. "Was that necessary?"

Ningning just shrugged, the faintest smirk pulling at her lips.

It wasn’t until the third time she intercepted someone talking to you (even if it was just someone asking for a pencil) that you finally asked, voice full of tentative hope and unbearable affection:

"So are we… like… girlfriend-girlfriends, or…?"

Ningning, without missing a beat, muttered, "Shut up," and walked ahead of you, leaving you scrambling to catch up with a stupidly wide grin stretching across your face.

Later that day, tucked into the back corner of the cafeteria with her closest friends, one of them nudged Ningning in the side when they caught her staring at you across the room, your head bent over your tray as you enthusiastically told a story to another friend.

"Are you finally going to admit you’re obsessed with her?" they teased, knowing full well the consequences of poking the dragon.

Ningning rolled her eyes but didn’t even bother denying it this time. "...we are," she mumbled, barely audible but entirely certain.

Her friends just grinned like a bunch of proud parents.

It wasn’t long before the rest of Ningning’s tiny, fiercely loyal circle started showing their approval too. In their own weird, slightly terrifying ways.

One of them Winter, who you’d always found a little intimidating despite her sweet face caught you by your locker one afternoon. She leaned against the metal, arms folded casually, and said without preamble:

"You’re good for her." You blinked, mid-stuffing your bag with books. "Um. Thanks?"

Winter smirked. "You’re the only one she listens to, you know."

Heat rushed up your neck, and you laughed awkwardly, shoving a notebook deeper into your backpack just to have something to do. "Honestly, I thought she barely tolerated me when we first met."

Winter’s smirk softened into something almost fond. "She let you sit next to her. That was already love."

You stood there for a moment after she walked away, heart thudding stupidly loud in your chest.

Because maybe you hadn’t tamed the infamous Ningning. Maybe you’d just seen her, the real her before anyone else had been brave enough to try. And maybe, just maybe, she was letting you stay because you were the first person who didn’t expect her to be anything she wasn’t.

You zipped up your backpack, slinging it over your shoulder with a little more lightness in your step, feeling stupidly giddy as you spotted Ningning waiting by the front doors, her hoodie slouched over her frame, her gaze immediately finding yours across the crowd.

Not official. Not loud.

But so real you could feel it in your bones.

You didn’t call it a date.

Obviously.

Because Ningning would combust on the spot if you even hinted at the word.

So, naturally, when you met up outside the little downtown bookstore-café hybrid on a cloudy Saturday afternoon, you greeted her with a mischievous grin and chirped, "Ready for our super casual, not-a-date, gal pal hangout?" loud enough for three strangers nearby to hear.

Ningning gave you a look that could’ve soured milk, tugging her hoodie lower over her head as if it could shield her from the embarrassment radiating off your sunshine soul. Still, she didn’t leave.

Instead, she wordlessly pushed open the door for you, the little bell above the frame jingling softly, and followed you inside like it was the most natural thing in the world. (You didn’t miss the way she subtly moved so she stood between you and the rest of the street before doing so either. Classic grump moves.)

Inside, the air smelled like old pages and cinnamon coffee, and you immediately spun around, practically bouncing in place.

"This is perfect," you gushed, beaming at her. "We can get books and snacks. Best non-date ever!"

Ningning rolled her eyes, but you caught the twitch at the corner of her mouth the almost-smile she always tried to bury around you.

You wove your way through the shelves, pulling her along by the sleeve when she lagged behind. She didn’t complain, not once, even when you spent fifteen whole minutes agonizing over which ridiculous romance novel to buy. (She ended up grabbing the one you hesitated on the longest and tossing it onto the counter without a word while you gaped at her.)

"You didn’t have to buy that," you mumbled, clutching the book like it was a trophy.

"Shut up," she said, already tapping her card against the reader before you could stop her.

You tried, half-heartedly, to insist on paying for your coffee and snack afterward too, but she leveled you with such an unimpressed stare that you caved immediately.

"Fine, fine," you sighed dramatically, sipping your overpriced latte. "You’re the sugar mommy in this very platonic gal pal outing."

The café was tiny, barely five tables squeezed between bookshelves and old couches, but Ningning found a seat tucked in the corner and motioned for you to join her with a tilt of her head. She sprawled back casually, one arm draped over the back of the couch and you, being you, immediately leaned your head against her shoulder with a pleased little sigh.

You felt her stiffen for a second.

Just for a second.

And then she relaxed.

Didn’t move away.

Didn’t even pretend to be bothered.

Outside the window, the sky threatened rain. Inside, tucked in the crook of Ningning’s arm, sipping lukewarm coffee and pretending not to feel the way her fingers lightly tapped against your shoulder in distracted patterns, you couldn’t help smiling to yourself.

When you glanced up at her because you couldn’t help it, you never could, she was already looking at you.

Like you were something delicate she wasn’t sure how to touch but didn’t want to stop trying.

A couple of people passed by the window, throwing curious glances inside. Ningning’s eyes narrowed immediately, and you watched in barely concealed amusement as she shifted, angling herself so she was more in the way, blocking you from view like some kind of disgruntled bodyguard.

"My hero," you whispered teasingly.

"Shut up," she muttered, but her hand brushed against yours under the table, pinky finger barely hooking around yours in a move so casual, so tiny, it might’ve been an accident.

You knew it wasn’t.

You leaned a little closer, your voice soft and ridiculously fond.

"You like me."

Ningning snorted, gaze flickering away.

"You’re delusional."

You just grinned, utterly content to sit there for as long as she’d let you, head on her shoulder, pinkies tangled, pretending it was just a gal pal hangout even though your heart was screaming otherwise.

If this wasn’t a date, you didn’t want to know what was.

It was the last assembly of the year. The kind where everything felt heavy with finality, where the air buzzed with the mixed emotions of relief, excitement, and a little bit of sadness. The seniors were preparing to leave, the underclassmen were already mentally checked out for summer, and Y/N stood there in the middle of it all, wide-eyed and buzzing with her usual, unmistakable energy.

Her excitement was palpable, like it always was. She had her bright, sunny smile on, bouncing between conversations with a few of her friends as they all tried to make the most of the last event of the year. But she couldn’t help feeling like something was different today. Maybe it was the way the room felt more alive than it ever had before, or maybe it was the strange warmth that had been radiating between her and Ningning these past few weeks something unspoken, yet undeniably there.

The last few days had been an odd mixture of soft moments and quiet confessions. No labels yet nothing official but it was clear to everyone who had been watching that something had shifted between them. Ningning, the girl who used to glare at everyone and push people away, now let Y/N walk into her space without hesitation, sat with her at lunch, and shared moments that made the world feel a little less overwhelming. It had always been her, really, but now it felt more real than ever.

The teasing started casually enough, a light jab from one of Y/N’s classmates who, for whatever reason, thought it’d be funny to poke fun at how much time she spent with Ningning. They were joking about how attached Y/N was to her “grumpy friend” when the mood suddenly shifted.

Ningning, who had been sitting off to the side with her arms crossed, listening to the banter with her usual deadpan expression, shot up from her seat with the sharpness of a blade. Everyone around them froze in a collective gasp as she stepped forward, her posture stiff and unyielding, her gaze burning through the group of students like they had crossed a line.

It was so sudden that even Y/N flinched slightly, her heart jumping in her chest at the sudden surge of protective energy emanating from her usually reserved friend.

“You want to say that again?” Ningning’s voice was low, cool, and without a hint of humor.

The teasing student, who had been more than willing to poke fun at Y/N just moments ago, looked like they regretted their words instantly. The room seemed to hold its breath, every student watching in stunned silence. Even the teachers exchanged a glance as if unsure whether to intervene or just let this unfold.

Ningning’s eyes never wavered from the student’s face, her gaze hard as steel, as she crossed her arms with an air of finality. The air in the room felt thicker now, charged with something that was unmistakably protective fierce and loyal, but undeniably soft in its own way.

The student cleared their throat awkwardly. “I was just joking, I didn’t mean—”

“You heard me,” Ningning cut them off, her voice quiet but firm. “She’s mine. You want to say that again?”

It was the kind of moment that made everyone’s heart skip, because it wasn’t just a declaration, it was an undeniable truth, one that had no need for explanation. It was protective. It was possessive, but not in a toxic way. It was simple and raw, like Ningning was quietly, without a second thought, claiming the one person she hadn’t known she needed so badly.

Y/N stood frozen, caught between a mix of shock and elation, and then, before anyone else could say anything, she heard her own voice cut through the stillness, her words a little breathless with disbelief and delight.

“That was the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me,” she said, her heart soaring as she looked up at Ningning, eyes wide with something that resembled awe.

Ningning blinked, looking flustered for just a moment. Her cheeks flushed faintly, and her usual tough exterior cracked for the briefest of seconds.

“…Shut up,” she muttered, trying to hide her smile behind a mask of irritation.

But Y/N knew better. She saw it, the faint, soft curve of Ningning’s lips that she couldn’t hide, no matter how hard she tried.

Y/N grinned, a wide, impossibly happy grin that lit up her whole face. Her hands practically itched to reach out and pull Ningning into a hug, but she held herself back, unsure if that would make Ningning explode. Instead, she just stood there, basking in the small but powerful shift that had just taken place.

The room slowly exhaled, the tension dissipating, but there was something else now, something more lingering and beautiful. The whole school seemed to have witnessed the small but undeniable shift in the dynamic between the two of them, Ningning, who had once kept everyone at arm’s length, had just made it clear she wasn’t letting anyone else get close to her sunshine.

It wasn’t a dramatic confession or some big, showy gesture. It was simple. Quiet. But that was enough.

Ningning stood there for a beat longer, clearly trying to hide the softness that had melted into her features. She finally gave a sharp nod and turned away, her back still rigid but her steps slower than before.

Y/N’s heart raced, and she couldn’t help but take a step toward her, smiling like she was the luckiest person in the world.

As the assembly continued around them, with the same buzzing energy and undercurrent of chatter, Y/N felt it, the undeniable shift. She didn’t need grand gestures or overly complicated words. She just needed this. Ningning. The girl who had been her protector in the most subtle, beautiful ways.

She watched as Ningning glanced back at her one last time before walking off, her eyes softening just a fraction, a silent acknowledgment between them.

And for the first time, Y/N knew without a doubt: This was the beginning of something that didn’t need to be said out loud. It was already theirs.

[amethyst-marshmallow]

My designs for the main 3 numbers!!! (i didnt put x bc i draw him all the time anyway)

Yayy!! Hcs & yapping under cut :3

For all algebraliens:

They have either paws or claws on their hands, their feet area always paws tho (rip One)

They also usually either have a fluffy tail (like four) or a like. line tail? idk what to call it (what One and Two both have) but they r smooth although they can have spikes which are pointyy (One has these, X (not pictured) has some too which resembles barbed wire) (Two's tail is just smooth tho)

They do have a thin layer of fur, it is usually also thicker on their arms than their main body (though sometimes a secondary species can change this). It also gets thicker in the winter! Sometimes algebraliens can have tufts of fur, like Four's heart-shaped tuft (which also has some magenta fur), though it is rare

gender as a concept did not exist for them, since they had no sexes (they reproduce asexually) so they all use all pronouns but the ones who have lived on earth longer sometimes have some that they prefer :3 those r the ones i wrote down but basically just assume a "/any" behind those

Number algebraliens specifically tend to have 2 main colors and the whites of their eyes are colored, they also tend to not really have a secondary species/assigned animal instead having an associated shape :3 though they can have secondary species rarely (ex. my nine is a cat, though he also has a lightning bolt as her shape)

These guys:

One - she/they

Main color is purple-y blue, ik but i had to make it different from four and six also gaty refrence omg periwinkle hahah secondary color is yellow/blue bc it changes omg crazyyy

Motif is crescent moons ofc, the halo is moon shaped and the horns r also supposed to kinda remind u of that

Her horns/halo both glow, but its a softer glow when they turn blue

Two - she/he

Main color is green secondary is purple :3 i think they contrast nice but lmk if its ugly as shit

Motif is circles ik i couldve chosen stars but there is already another green character associated with stars i draw frequently (Vee dw)

Their antennae endpoint ball thingies also glow, she can change how bright the glow is :]

Also shes aroace idc idgaf i see all the two ships as platonic. cry about it (yes this includes both twogaty/gatwo and 2x8 which was literally said to be platonic,, wah wah wah)

Four - actually does not care xd

Main color is blue second is magenta :3 i like contrasting color scheme,, this one idec if ppl think its ugly its fitting but i do like it

I chose hearts for her motif bc mammals have 4 chambered hearts (algebraliens arent mammals but whateverrr) also you can make a heart shape 4 four fingers :) in two different ways!! also it is partially inspired by that one scene in bfb 4

Their design is MY FAV omg i love him sm shes so cool erm yeah

yeah it was hard for me to decide what i wanted to do bc i knew antennae would look ugly for me bc they already have the bnuy ears goin on so i went with whiskers!! and then i put hearts on them :3 i ended up being rlly happy w this design ahudkafsb i hope you love him as much as i doooo,,,

also like i said earlier they do have the Rare! trait of having a tuft of fur and it even fades into magenta omg thats so cool i mostly did it since i knew from far away/in a simlpified form u wouldnt see the tuft but i still wanted to put a heart there so i decided to have it fade like that (even if its not really a "fade" but idk what else to call it xd) so from far away u could still see a magenta heart, like on the chibis

also the heart particles appear when they get happy, this is directly taken from the bfb 4 scene,,, when they get really happy the magic in the particles gets strong enough they become a physical object and they fling off at rlly high speeds >:3

ok lol Fours section was rlly long but i rlly like four shes so silly :3 :3 :3 :3 :3 :3 :3 :3 :3 :3 :3 :3 :3 :3 :3 :3 :3 :3 :3 :3 :3 :3 :3 :3 :3 :3 :3 :3

by.e :D

[megwritesriddles]

Mike Schmidt NSFW Alphabet

18+ MDNI!!!

A/N: I can't believe how carried away I got with this... can you tell I think about Mike Schmidt a lot...? Also I know I said I wasn't gonna post until maybe June but procrastinating my uni work is a hell of a drug... this time I'm disappearing fr... maybe…

Word count: 4.4k words (omg)

all fandom masterlist | fnaf masterlist

Warnings: fem!reader, period mention, breeding kink/pregnancy mentions (only as fantasy), slight degradation, Mike is bad at feelings, somnophilia (mentioned once in no detail rlly), some pervy behaviour.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

I love the guy, but I don’t think he’s great at this. He’d just kinda roll over, maybe keep an arm around you if he’s feeling it. After you’ve been together/hooking up for a long time, I think he might memorise your post-sex routine enough to make sure you have a glass of water on the nightstand beforehand and sleepily remind you: “Aren’t you supposed to go pee or something babe?” in a gruff voice. He’s not pampering or bathing you, but might sit in the bath with you if you run one, and won’t object to holding you in it. If he hurt you in any way, he would apologise and pad away to get you a bag of frozen peas to hold on it. But I can’t really imagine kisses on the boo-boo or cooing as his vibe. It’s not that he doesn’t care, it’s just who he is.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

I think he takes pride in his arms. He’s not crazy buff, but he’s in shape and has some muscle definition in his arms from his daily push-ups and all the manual labour jobs he’s had to work over the years. He preens whenever he catches you looking at his biceps, going especially crazy if you mention something about them. He likes to show off his strength to you, both in sexy ways, and more mundane ways like coming to help you move furniture. He loves to feel useful, like he’s actually adding something to your life, this is a way he can feel that objectively.

This man is an ASS MAN, I’m sorry but you cannot convince me different. Sure, he likes your boobs, he gets hard when you lean over to grab something and your cleavage is right in his face, but your ass is something else entirely. Obviously he thinks it’s sexy, but he also just likes to rest a hand on it, softly rubbing or squeezing as you stand together in his kitchen or lie together on the couch. He might even be the kind of guy to have a hand in your back pocket in public, although really he’s a bit too reserved for that. He thinks about it, though. Wear some form-fitting clothes or bend over in front of him and you can have him eating out of the palm of your hand (or somewhere else)

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

I always headcanon Mike as having a breeding kink… idk why. He doesn’t want kids, he has his hands full and wallet stretched thin enough, but he definitely does love to cum inside of you over and over and push his cum back inside of you when it drips out. Sometimes, he might even make comments about how you’d look with a belly swollen with his seed, but quickly regrets the thought once the sex is over. It’s just a fantasy about you, not about actually becoming a parent, he basically already is one.

You better be on the pill or some form of birth control, because he’s feral to come inside of you. If he ever has an opportunity to get a vasectomy (idk how he would but just humour me), he definitely would get one so you two can play about without risk.

If he’s not coming inside of you, I think he’d want it to be in your mouth. He finds it very hot when you swallow everything he gives you, loving when a bit of cum drips down your chin. This will mainly be reserved for quickies though.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Imagining there are no evil animatronics in the equation, he would 100% want to chase you around the abandoned halls of Freddy’s while he’s meant to be working. He’d give you a head start, then chase you down, pinning you to the floor and having his way with you. As much as he plays annoyed, he loves it when you manage to get away halfway through and make him chase you again, both of you laughing from the excitement and adrenaline. He grabs you once more, nipping your neck as you giggle breathlessly. He growls softly, though he can’t keep the amused smile off his face, “I have you now, little bunny,” (or whatever nickname you find hot for this scenario, he’s adaptable).

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Mike can only go one of two ways in my head.

1. He’s basically a virgin. Maybe, had sex once or twice with like a high school girlfriend between when he was kind of healing from the Garrett thing but his parents were still alive, but that’s a big maybe because was he ever healing or acting well-adjusted? probably not. So between being a traumatised, stunted teenager and then an even more traumatised adult who spends all the time he’s not working caring for his little sister, he has no time for dating and struggles to open up to anyone anyway. If he has any experience, I totally see him as being in a multiple year long dry spell by the events of the movie. So very limited experience.

2. Or! Any time he’s free, he goes to a bar and finds a woman to hook up with as a way of coping and keeping his mind off of things. He’s handsome and has a brooding quality about him that works in his favour picking up these women, and he’s never rude or unkind. In fact, honestly, he might hope that each of these hook-ups turns into true love, but of course they don’t, because he can’t be normal about relationships and drives everyone away, unconsciously or not. So he tries again the next week to the same result.

I usually lean towards 1. but I can kind of see either. Either way, he doesn’t have experience with healthy relationships, and if he has any sexual experience, it’s limited to tipsy one night stands or teenage fumbling, so he needs some training when you come along.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary… doggy… cowgirl… all the basics… but you know what he loves? SPOONING! Wrapped around you and pressed against your back while watching a movie, don’t be surprised if he’s pushing down your sweatpants and slipping inside of you in that position. He loves doing it like that on his couch, or even in bed on a rare lazy morning, his lips trailing up and down your neck and shoulder, his chest warm against your back, his arms wrapped around you tightly, one hand sneaking down your tummy to your clit. He loves it. It gives you the perfect opportunity to tease him when he climbs behind you into bed after his night shift, pressing your ass back and wiggling it against his crotch until he gives in and pulls your sleep shorts to the side for a sleepy fuck. To him it’s like cuddling, which he already enjoys, but with benefits. And he doesn’t have to worry about the faces he’s making, which he feels a bit embarrassed by no matter how many times you say it’s hot.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He’s serious, teasing or self-deprecating when you’re just making out and he’s lamenting how fast you got him hard again, or teasing you affectionately for being a ‘needy slut’ as you grind back against him for the second time that night, or he finally pins you down against the floor of Freddy’s, but during the deed he is focused and mostly quiet other than groans and grunts.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

I don’t think he grooms down there. He washes well so he sees no problem, maybe trimming if it’s causing any sort of issues. He’s not a person who cares much about appearances or presentation, so as long as it’s practical (clean) it doesn’t have to be pretty. He doesn’t care what you’ve got going on down there, as long as you also keep clean. In fact honestly if you were clean shaven or waxed, I think he’d talk you into going natural because ‘who has the time or energy?’. A little hair never stopped him from enjoying his favourite meal anyway.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Depends what your relationship is. I think he can be quite quick and detached if you’re just hooking up, whether it’s natural to him that way or he’s forcing himself to act cool is a different issue. So when he’s starts cradling your cheeks and saying how pretty you are during sex, instead of his usual gruff and clipped dirty talk, you’re immediately suspicious that he’s developed feelings, despite his own obliviousness and confusion when you try to confront him about his change in behaviour.

In a relationship he’s a bit softer, but still more closed off than most. He’ll say you’re beautiful and he loves you, then blush, even if he’s said it a hundred times before. He’ll take more time with you if you’re together, not rushing either of you toward the finish line to avoid getting attached (not that it would work anyway) and rather savouring the closeness. He’s shyer voicing his fantasies in an actual relationship than he is dirty talking with a hook-up, because frightening you away is not an option. His breeding kink sounds much more romantic when he whispers it to you slowly and slightly nervously while stroking your cheek.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Doesn’t get that many opportunities to get off on his own (he’s a busy guy) but whenever he does, he’s taking it, wasting no time and going as many times as he possibly can, because who knows the next time he’ll have this chance? He’s almost certainly thinking about you as he does this, even if you aren’t together yet. Those little outfits you wear to watch Abby/work at the mall/wherever he meets you just drive him so wild and all your social media accounts are conveniently public for his viewing pleasure.

Once he has you around, this is much less urgent. The time he gets alone is now spent calling you and getting you to come over, or showing up unannounced at your place to hump like animals. He will always prefer being with you over using his hand, so his hand essentially retires.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Breeding kink as I’ve said. Dare I say… a bit of somno.... he doesn’t mind if he’s the one asleep or not, he just finds it hot. Chasing prey as I also mentioned before, chasing you around and pinning you down, though it’s more playful than serious roleplay, just to get the adrenaline pumping.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Couch!! He has such a couch sex vibe and you can’t tell me different!!! But he also likes the bed, or the wall or floor at Freddy’s when you’re alone there together. He’s too reserved for anything exhibitionistic beyond the abandoned Freddy’s building at night, and I think he’d prefer to keep you to himself anyway.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

When you bend over or wear a tight skirt or leggings or something that highlights your ass. When you highlight other parts of your body with clothes or positions, like being sprawled out on the couch when he gets home. When you wriggle against him as you cuddle. When you play coy and shy around him or run away just to tease him. When you rub his back after he’s had a rough day at work. When he catches you admiring his arms. When you tell him you’ve missed him in that whiney voice. The list goes on…

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Probably anything overly gross and messy. 1. Because he’s not into it. 2. Because he doesn’t have the time or energy to clean up afterwards. He might consider period sex if he's just about to put a load of towels in the laundry anyway, but if it creates extra work, he's not really up for it. Time is precious and he's a little lazy.

I think he'd be willing to give you a little spanking if you were into it, a little bit of degradation (but affectionately) calling you desperate and slut and such (I think he'd kind of like it if you called him a slut too when he's acting like one, he's happy that he's comfortable enough around you to act that way, or if you say "God, Mike, you're so easy," when he gets hard from something simple and innocuous). He won't slap your face, or choke you, or do anything crazy rough to you. He's not into seeing you in pain, in fact, it actively turns him off and makes him uncomfortable. He's quite playful during foreplay (once he's comfortable with you) so back-and-forth teasing and a (non-painful) slap on your ass is more his thing. Even his chasing kink is more about play than fear.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Mike likes a blowjob as much as any other stressed 20-something guy would. He loves seeing you on your knees, looking up at him with your sweet eyes. He'll play with your hair while you're down there, and maybe guide you by it if you're into that. If not, he's happy to just sit back and let you work your magic. For some reason, I headcanon that the first sexual experience he has with you is a blowjob. You're just hanging out/at work/whatever and you're sick of the tension, so get down on your knees in front of him. Who the hell is he to say no to that?

This is NOT to say he doesn't like giving, because he does, I think he even surprises himself by how much he enjoys it. He enjoys feeling useful as I've said before, so watching you feel so good from his ministrations is a thrill. He might use it to get his way a bit, kneeling in front of you a little while after an argument and silently kissing up your inner thighs, knowing you'll give in to him and forgive him for being an idiot. It's also something he does whenever he gets jealous or insecure that you might leave him. It's like he's reminding both himself and you of what you have together and what he can do to you.

He would definitely enjoy a sixty-nine (with you on top), bringing you pleasure only heightens his, and he enjoys when you get all sloppy and whiney on his cock as he brings you to your peak. Will massage your ass as you sit on his face, he would happily die crushed between your thighs.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

I kind of see him as being slow and rough, you know? Deep measured thrusts, watching your expression each time he's buried to the hilt. Of course, he picks up the pace a bit toward the orgasm, but I don't think he's ever crazy fast. Lazy sex is his favourite, so he's mostly pretty laid-back in his pace, but no less intense.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He's definitely up for a quickie, more often than not, a quickie before work or on the couch while Abby is safely away and asleep is all he has the time for, so they're fairly frequent. He does prefer taking a bit more time with you, so when he can make the time for a longer session, he's happier, but he's also just glad he's getting any action from you at all, so he's not complaining.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

I think so, but not crazily so. He knows what he likes and doesn't like, so has some hard boundaries set, but that's not to say he wouldn't try a few things. Handcuffs, blindfolds, acting more dominant or submissive than usual and roleplay (although his acting would be super stiff) would all be things I think he'd be willing to give a go. Who knows? He might incorporate them into your sex life, or quietly tell you that he didn't really enjoy that much.

Risk-wise, a risk he would absolutely NOT take, is the potential to be walked in on by Abby. Couch sex is only fine because you can keep a blanket over you and her room is all the way down the hall so you have time to get decent before she could see anything, plus she's always asleep when you do that anyway, it's never during the day unless she's away at school. He will not take risks in regards to that, and hopefully you wouldn't want to either. You keep quiet and there's a lock on his bedroom door just in case.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

I think he does one round at a time. He might go a few times in a day, but there'll be a good break in between rounds. He can maybe push for two in a row on a special day, but more than that is physically not possible for him back to back. He'll happily make you come over and over though.

Unfortunately for Mike, I think he can finish prematurely quite often... he will definitely make up for it with you, but especially in the beginning, it was over quite fast. He's sheepish about it, yet tries to pretend he doesn't care and keeps going with pleasuring you however he chooses to do it, but the slight pink at the tips of his ears gives away his embarrassment. On the flipside, on days he's extremely stressed, he might have quite a struggle to come, and you'll have to stop several times to get him to relax his muscles and take a few deep breaths. Generally though, once you've been hooking up for a while, he'll come at an appropriate time and you can properly enjoy the experience together.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

I go back and forth between the idea of him having a fleshlight before he met you. I mean, since I usually headcanon that he was in a dry spell, but he's also a 20-something virile young man, I think it makes sense that he needed some sort of outlet for stress release. He would probably be really embarrassed about buying it, even though the person behind the counter couldn't give less of a shit, then he feels so weird about it that it just sits under his bed in its box for a month or two while he uses his hand. Finally when he does use it (maybe because he wants to pretend it's you) it feels really good, but he feels totally lame afterwards. Still, after that, he uses it every chance he gets, because he spent the money after all, even if it makes him feel like a loser. The second you start to sleep together, he's happy to hide it under his bed again to collect dust like it never existed. Though he might let you watch him use it, if you're into that. (Disregard this if you headcanon him as having hooked up with women from the bar)

I think he might kind of enjoy having you sitting between his legs, your back to his chest, with him holding a vibrator against your clit, his other hand softly kneading your breasts and his lips suckling your neck. Or just holding one to your clit while he fucks you. He finds it super hot if you tell him you used a dildo on yourself and imagined him before you were sleeping together, but he doesn't want to use it on you. Why use a dildo when he has a perfectly good cock right here? (Not related to toys but he loves to hear about fantasies you had about him before you were together, it makes him super hot and bothered, he loves to know that you wanted him as much as he wanted you).

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Once he's comfortable with you and sure that you're probably going to stick around even if he acts a little annoying, he can be very teasing. Like I've said a few times, I think (when he's comfortable) he's actually very playful with foreplay and the other things leading up to sex. He enjoys a bit of 'banter' or playfully swatting your ass. If you proposition him he might tease you and tell you to beg for it, but actually during sex, I don't think he's that teasing. He wants to make you happy and he wants to be happy as well, and to him, teasing usually only pushes that back, so he also doesn't like you teasing him that much. But definitely just throughout the day, like if you're cooking or doing laundry, he might just come up and rub against you from behind, kiss your neck, murmur a few dirty words and then walk away leaving you wanting so that you'll chase after him for more.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He's pretty quiet, out of both necessity and just his nature. He will grunt and groan quietly, maybe the occasional small choked-out gasp when something surprises him or feels just right. He's up for a little bit of dirty talk or praise during sex, but it's very short and hushed. He isn't a babbler, and the better he feels, probably the less likely he is to talk. So he might whisper a few dirty things right as you get started, but as he approaches orgasm, he goes silent other than his pleased grunts and listens to whatever sounds you're making. He loves hearing your pleasure (as long as you keep relatively quiet, even when you're home alone I think shouting and screaming might freak him out a little), but he loves mewls of his name or soft praise/dirty talk from you. I think he'd find it kind of cute if you were the opposite of him and tended to babble as you came.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He's definitely the kind of guy to tell you that you're just hooking up and it's not serious, even though he's already fallen completely in love with you. I see him (maybe because of fanfic) getting into a friends-with-benefits arrangement with Abby's babysitter, and even letting her live in his spare room and spending every moment together, cuddling up every night, even pecking and holding hands in front of Abby, and not realising he's actually in a relationship, because he's too scared to actually say the words. You just let it be because, he's treating you well, he's not cheating on you, the sex is great, he's just oblivious to his own feelings. One day a coworker of his bumps into you in the grocery store and sees you all over each other, then asks Mike the next day about his 'girlfriend'.

"Girlfriend? What girlfr- ohhh... I see what I've done,"

A nsfw headcanon is that if you lived together, or even if you were just around enough to leave some clothes around occasionally, he is DEFINITELY stealing your panties. He's a bit of a perv (though he does feel ashamed of it), but is unaware how much you're aware of it, and how much you like it. It's just a little too easy for him to get his hands on your panties, but he doesn't realise to question it. Another one and this is so random, I feel like he tries to stay away from pornography, and if he does interact with it, it's like vintage or like old playboy type magazines. lol idk why?? and it's all kept very secretively in boxes under the bed... I think Mike carries a lot of shame tbh...

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

I've mentioned earlier that I think he has decent biceps. He would have broad strong arms (even stronger than they look, and they look pretty good), but not much muscle elsewhere. He has a little fat around his belly from eating pretty badly for years, but nothing too significant. Downstairs-wise, he's probably quite girthy, average to slightly larger than average length. No matter what he's like under his boxers, I think he's a little insecure about it, having convinced himself there's something wrong because he hasn't ever really had much comparison (staying away from porn), and anyone he's slept with (if with anyone) hasn't mentioned anything about it, so he assumes they were disappointed, when really there was just nothing to say, as saying 'hey nice cock,' is kind of weird and he had no particular features there to remark on.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

High, he's young, he's stressed, he's repressed and you are just so attractive to him that it's hard not to want it a few times a day. A good thing about him is that if he gets horny and you're not in the mood, he can quite easily bury the feeling for later, used to hardly having appropriate time to get off so having to ignore his arousal. I would guess you guys are doing it every morning and every evening most days, but this can change with your schedule and cycle. Special days eg. Birthdays, Christmas, Valentine's or anniversaries always include sex in the celebrations in Mike's book.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Mike is weird because sex in the morning energises him, but sex in the evening makes him doze off almost immediately. He can finish up with you and immediately head for work, and then later the same day be practically catatonic after orgasming, wrapping around you ready to sleep, groaning and complaining when you try to get him to move from the couch to his bed. It just depends on the time of day, but sex with you is definitely his new sleeping pill of choice.

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[wilfre-the-medical-bot]

(Wooooooooiooooooopioooooooooooooopioooo

Home alone for a few hours- littlest kiddos at school, that one brother at some resort [he be getting the help he needs I've been told], parents going up to have a meeting at that place to see if said brother could come home tomorrow [mother keeps asking if i will feel safe and im like "I dunno, tbh"] and just- man- I've been more productive than ever lol-

Had a small breakfast [gross- food=blegh], made friends with a spider that startled me, made myself some coffee, lost da spider [sadness 😔], drank coffee, fed and gave water to the animals, took my medicine, put up my new TF One poster, patched up a cut I found on my leg [WHY MAKE SUCH A MESS IT WAS SUCH A SMALL CUT WTF 😭], cleaned up bathroom floor [not cause of the dang cut dat mess was only on my leg it just looked messy and I was like nope can't have dat lol] vacuumed mudroom [which I really call the "Den" but idk if people would understand what I'm talking about], talked to one of my friends [they want to hang out but i cant leave 🥲] gave somebody advice for what could be good for their new leopard gecko, took the dogs outside, gave one of my dogs her medicine, gave both dogs a treat, got startled by a big fluffy bee that somehow ended up inside but soon started talking to her like I would to any animal, left and made some sugar water for said bee, came back and found not one but two wasps in that same room and freaked out [literally ran away, somehow without spilling the sugar water- I'm terrified of wasps- dunno if I'm allergic to their stings like my mother is or not-], eventually went back to open a window and placed the sugar water that I put in a bottle cap and a fake flower [I thought that maybe the bright colors would entice the buggers] on the windowsill [lost sight of the wasps- I'm scared 😟], ran back out quickly, and now I'm writing this as I sit on the couch-

Oh I've also been bouncing around giggling and screeching and yapping absolute nonsense [I think I at one point I said something about *ahem* fragging Ratchet oop 🤭] I feel so little and I'm happy wooooooooo things have been so hard lately but today I feel so alive I don't remember the last time I felt like this-

Hold on, gonna see if the bee went to the sugar water-

No but the flower fell-

And why tf am I supposed to have a "Senior Check-in" with my school guidance counselor in a few minutes like I'm on fragging break right now wtf no thankie you I don't wanna go away ya dummy calendar reminder I don't remember agreeing to this YOU WANNA FIGHT WELL THEN HAVE AT THEE 🤺

Yeeeeeeeeeeeee

GOSH DANG SNAPCHAT KEEPS STARTLING ME WITH ITS DANG NOTIFICATIONS LIKE I GET IT YOU GUYS I'LL LOOK WHEN I CAN PLEASE HOLD ON I'LL LOOK AT YOUR STORY SOON MY DEAR PLATONIC TRANS SON

I dunno if it's the coffee or that I'm just alone and free to just be myself but man I feel awesome

I COULD FIGHT THE DANG SKY HAHA 🔥

Omg I was bored and looked up "emo hair cut" on pinterest and look-

OMG WHAT I JUST WANTED TO SEE SOME HAIRSTYLES WTF LITERALLY LOOKED AT THIS AND SAID "HA" not even an actual laugh just "HA"

Ah what a day it is already-

Wow what a long post-

EeeeeeEeeeeeEEeeeeeEeeeeeEEeeeeeEeeeee)

[goatgoesmbe]

Hijab question! Do you have to wear hijab around your house? And like i know youre supposed to cover your hair if guys are around so does that include dad, brothers, son, etc? (I read the gaz thing where you mention not knowing he was over for tea cus he bestied up your dad and it was his first look he was looking and i was like oh that would be scary if you weren’t veiled either cus you just didnt know your dad had him over lol)

No i dont have to :3c

So.. places in general, from what i taught by my professor- split to two: private and public

For public places, you have to cover- except youre sure noone else would enter that place

For private places, (ur home, ur car, etc) u dont have to- and if someone elses walked in and saw you- neither of you sinned, but they have to get away asap. Also, they have to explicitly ask for permission to enter anyone's private places.. (..ehehe): An-Nur: 27. There's also a verse about anyone who peeked into anyone private places- it's ok to stab them in the eyes until they're blind :) (Shahih Bukhari: 6393)

For kids and mahram are alright. Kids don't sin, nor that it's mandatory for them to follow any ruling. (Warning: there's a fake verse going around about parents bearing their children's sins before puberty. They don't)

That doesn't mean it's ok to be nude around them lol (except for emergency, medical reason, etc). You have to cover from below belly button to above your knees (again, scholar opinion varies, but mostly agreed to this)

By kids, in Islam it means anyone who hasn't hit puberty. Or if they never hit puberty- then the age would be after 17 (Syafii Mahzab anyway, it differs)

By mahram, it means anyone who's blood related/related by marriage:

Brothers, dads, etc are ok 👍

uncles and aunts from both side are ok 👍

Spouses of said uncle/aunt aren't ok (coz not blood related/marriage related to you) 👎

Grandparents and above are ok 👍

Parents in law are ok 👍

but siblings in law aren't 👎

Parents' in law's siblings aren't ok 👎

Your children/grandchildren/etc and their spouses are ok 👍

Your children in laws and above aren't 👎

Cousins, no 👎 (thats why some people married their cousin)

There's also a thing about being related by breastmilk✨. So if a baby below 2 years old, drinks your mom's milk continuously until they're full- or some scholars said 5 times minimum- that baby became your mahram. You can't marry them even when they're not blood related- and you can unveil yea

*mahram by marriage privilege would be taken away after divorce

I think this might get confusing 💀 ill come back with a graph later (its 2 am)

A/n: that fic is inspired by my dad AND mom who never informed me if there are guests in the house. Idk the ruling, but im sure it's very reccomended for them to tell me first GDI. Rn, I'm used to it and just rolled my eyes before putting on hijab- usually it's the men who accidentally saw me who were panicking (one time, he screamed and ran.. like ok)

[forsaken-headcanons]

tw child death and manipulation!! again!!! heh i love torturing tehse guys... quick happy hc so ppl can scroll uhh pr3typriincess liked to host teaparties with c00lkidd and bluudud and liked to make bluudud dress up as the princess/damsel in distress in princess-knight-dragon games. c00lkidd insisted on being hte dragon or big bad evil villain and pr3typriincess would usually be the dashing maiden/female knight that saved a very unenthusiastic bluudud from an overenthusiastic c00lkidd!! dressing up is very necessary yes based off that pr3typriincess still tries to organize tea parties but c00lkidd rarely comes and bluudud physically cant come?? outside of a robot controlled thing which is basically hsi avatar for every game he plays,,, i think forsaken would be a computer steam game he can boot up and pr3typriincess's world/home/room idk is just another game he can start... the survivors see bluudud as like this mech robot and not the actual kid (c00lkidd also looks kindave regular outside of rounds but during rounds helike transforms adn twists into an 8 foot tall part drakkobloxer monster! looks back on my shapeshifter hcs) c00lkidd died to a malfunctioned ride WITH 007n7 in the crowd waiting for him to come out so all 007n7 knew is the scream that came from his mouth and his mangled body they all died on their birthdays and i think their birthdays would aso be in their age order so bluudud died/went missing due to a car crash first, then pr3typriincess died however she died or got forsakened, and 007n7 could only watch as the pattern finally got to his kid 118o8 and bluudud do/did less of the outward "MUAHAHA i am EVIL and i am here to HACK natural disaster survival and turn it all ONE COLOR AND PNG!!!! " and more of mind messing things... like flipping the og roblox house around in the museum or shifting painting hues to be a slightly different color... 118o8 warns bluudud not to do hugely noticeable things like uh. setting the grocery store on fire (slash reference) or terrorize the pizza place (looks at c00lkidd) but he still soemtimes does it... 118o8 is too afarid of her son becoming a manchild completely reliant on her or a future significant other so she makes him do chores instead of completely grounding him even though he is 11 / 12 and is supposed to be reliant but wtv... since bluudud is a mech in forsaken but organic in bluuworld i think that the spectre would be like "hey guys! a new killer!" and every survivor is dreading their appearance but they never appear for like two months (cause bluudud was still recovering from actually being hit by a car adn not having any medical supplies or even having a bed (ive played bluuworld all there is is like 10 blunnies, a pc with a white-screen behind it, a toilet, like 5 paintings, a giant rock, a wip store, a bird cube behind the house, a dance floor, and like this emo guy in the corner of the map)). and then theres a robot and they still assume that the killer is out of commission or refuses to participate or somehow escaped adn the robot is replacing the actual killer instead of c00lkidd just being tricked its basically pyrovision. everything is ACTUALLY rainbows and puppies and sparkles to him and ppl say different things as well!! bluudud is controlling his irl forsaken self using the computer so all his dialogue, movement, and everything else is preplanned and prebuilt in so he can actually check the stats of everyone else and review strategy so hes actually one of the more skilled killers from your dearest pi-non.... hope you enjoy the children suffering

Ough... you make them suffer so terribly, pi-non. By the way, have you been here before? If not, hello!

[darkandstormyranger]

ok now i can try to review my opinion, after having finished ROTE altogether so hey complaining round two

(and yeah, i complain, but i still love those books. i'm actually really happy that i found a book i care about enough to complain :3 )

[fitz and the fool spoilers]

logically, i kind of get why the author chose to have fitz and molly get back together, bee needing to happen and all but still.......... there must have been a better way

firstly, again, i still think a huge part of fitz's character development should have been him letting go of his childhood crush and accepting the fact that she's happy without him - i think the first trilogy twist where it turned out that molly wasn't actually going to stay single forever mourning him but moved on with her life was brilliant, 10/10 no notes AND it should have made fitz reconsider his view on their *ended* relationship in the following years (following sixteen years might i add)

secondly, it was kinda fucked up how they started picking up their relationship 0.034 seconds after her husband, father to her half a dozen of kids (and basically fitz's adopted father???) died. like, fitz's first thought after learing that burrich died is "COOL MOLLY IS SINGLE AGAIN" dude what. and also how everyone is really cheering him on? "HER HUSBAND IS DEAD DUDE GO GET HER TIGER!" guys?????? i feel maybe fitz and molly's relationship would have felt less like a slap in the face if it was moved to the beginning of the third trilogy and took place years after their reunion. maybe burrich is still alive for a while, maybe after his death fitz and molly have a random one night stand bc they both feel lonely and need someone who understands their pain and it ultimately doesn't lead to them getting back together, bc they're too much of a different people to rekindle their relationship and they're still grieving the loss of their loved ones BUT in the end the weird years-long pregnancy still happens and the events of the fitz and the fool carry on as they do

third, and i think my main issue is that robin hobb does a great job of writing interesting relationships both romantic and platonic (fitz & the fool/nighteyes/burrich/lady patience/ketricken/verity, verity & ketricken, kennit & winntrow etc..) and yet somehow molly and fitz imo are nowhere near as interesting and feel nowhere as deep as the aforementioned. i was looking forward to the reunion between fitz and burrich or fitz and lady patience. i couldn't care less if molly and fitz never spoke until the end of the story.

fourth, i kinda get now how it was supposed to be a bit of a bittersweet ending, where fitz loses the two most important people in his life BUT technically gets the life he always wanted, a bit of a glinda's I couldn't be happier moment buuuuuuut idk i still feel it could have been done better, i didn't really feel him being torn that much

five, bee. the main reason, i guess, for fitz and molly's reunion. true, getting them back together was the easiest way to have her happen, but definately not the only one and others wouldn't probably leave one with bad taste in their mouth. bee could have just appeared spontaneusly out of nowhere (if we're doing the whole triple parenting thing, why not a kid appearing out of a thin air? why not???), bee could have actually been the fool's kid (i think it would be funny if for once fitz had to deal with the fact that his friend/love/half of his soul actually had a relationship with someone else at some point).

all in all, the ending did make up for that odd romantic detour, fitz reuniting with the fool and nighteyes, but i guess that's the best thing that can be said for it. and i just really like to complain

final verdict: i get the reasoning behind it but im still going to be a little bitch about it

tawny man trilogy spoilers

i was in the middle of writing an essay on why i found the endgame relationship of the fool's fate a bit annoying and i realized it boils down to two issues:

fitz and molly's relationship never felt to me like it was supposed to be endgame - i think it was a pretty cool failed relationship, which was supposed to serve as a lesson to fitz and a bitter reminder that he cannot always take what he wants regardless of the consequences; furthermore i never felt molly was that important of a character in the later books, compared to nighteyes and the fool. she doesn't appear in the second trilogy at all until the very end come on...

(and i joked about how the fool is getting so much description in fitz's pov BUT SERIOUSLY, all i rememeber about molly is that she's a woman and has hair , while the fool is getting extensive descriptions almost every chapter, and that kind of sends the message on whom the reader should focus on more no??)

fitz has been childishly feeling wronged for sixteen years and the ending seemed to confirm his belief? - i genuinely thought that the punchline of fitz feeling jealous and angry that the two people he cared about fell in love because they were good for each other and they also thought he was dead would be him moving on and accepting the fact that he can take a different role in their life and appreciate it AND NOT "sometimes if you love someone, and wait long enough, and remind yourself that they are meant for you, and are probably waiting for you, regardless of the life and relationships they built for themselves, you will be rewarded by getting them back". everything seems to confirm fitz's conviction that molly was somehow wrongfully stolen from him and they can finally be together? nighteyes dying (when it was said at some point that molly wouldn't accept his bond with fitz and would make him choose), burrich dying and the fool leaving (bc he knew molly wouldn't accept his friendship with fitz) seem to all be obstacles conveniently moved out of the way of fitz getting back with his ex-girlfriend as though that was the reward he's been working for all this time?

i guess what im trying to say is, even though i as a reader don't have to be (and shouldn't be) on board with every decision a character makes, you'd think that his happy ending (mid-ending?) and the endgame (mid-game?) relationship would at least not make me want to write an angry essay on tumblr dot com yet here i am

(look at me, writing a whole ass rant when it was supposed to be just two bullet points)

[mochasucculent]

Was looking at refs and since Viktor has two different leg braces I was wondering, do we think he wears them simultaneously?? The refs don't perfectly line up perspective-wise so it's hard to tell but parts of the one he wears during the Hexcore scenes look like they could maybe line up with the brace that he wears over his clothes, but also some parts really don't and look like they'd be super uncomfy. Also HOW does he take these on and off. Experts weigh in

[aejiee]

Old man yaoi